Wounded
by NyokaKione
Summary: Ever-impatient Noxus lies in wait, and under its pressure, Katarina discovers what Ashe has kept hidden. Can she bring herself to help her? KatxAshe
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: I don't know if I will put notes at the top of ever chapter, but I will start this off by saying that I have a thread about to go up on the LoL fanfiction forum, where I will probably have much more information than I will in these notes. Check out my thread, thumb it up, and bump it. Reveiws - sent either here or posted on the thread - are highly appreciated. Thanks for stopping by and please, enjoy!  
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_Wounded_

Chapter 1: First Blood

There is a sort of calm that settles over Summoner's Rift before every battle – a few seconds of silence, an anticipation – as if each Nexus paused to take a deep breath, draw in the surrounding energy, and channel it for just a moment before release. It was a tangible force, observed by many champions in the League as they prepared themselves in those few moments before a fight. Today, it was notably absent. The sky had ripped apart, fractured by brilliant lightning cracks, pouring rain in torrents and filling the air with a powerful electric charge that seemed immune to the typical pre-battle tranquility.

There were some champions who loathed fighting during inclement weather, and battles during storms were limited, though not unheard of. This one just happened to fall on the day of the most violent tempest Valoran had seen this season.

Concealed perfectly in tall grass, Noxus' Sinister Blade waited in complete stillness, drenched to the bone. She focused solely on the crouched figure in front of her, hidden in an adjacent grove with his muzzle in the air, ears cocked to catch the slightest footfall over the raging storm. Neither of them could detect the presence of an enemy until the air in the clearing grew heavy, shimmering for a moment before a huge stone golem appeared.

Reacting quickly, Katarina hurled her blade at the creature, distracting it long enough for Warwick to lunge. She watched as the werewolf took down the confused creature without fault. Silently, the Sinister Blade melted back into the jungle, eyes locked on the structure that towered over the tree line. She approached the no-man's land between her turret and that of her enemy and waited in the grass for her opponent to appear.

A minute passed. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. Katarina's piercing eyes scanned the enemy jungle for any sign of life when suddenly, she heard a loud screeching noise over the sound of the rain. The jungle was lit up by a brilliant flash of blue light as a nearly-transparent hawk soured directly over her head, giving a quick circle before alighting on a branch nearby. Katarina stared at it in confusion, realizing just a moment too late that the bird had come from behind –

_Thwack! _

An arrow sailed through the trees and buried into the Sinister Blade's shoulder, causing the woman to wince involuntarily. She whirled around and scanned the trees, sinking further back into the grass. The hawk's light had disappeared and the heavy rain made it difficult to distinguish one shadow from another.

There. A bolt of lightning shot across the sky, lighting up the battlefield for half a second. The brief illumination was all Katarina needed to spot a hooded figure perched on a tree branch not 20 feet away. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, she hurled a knife at the archer and rolled into another bush to wait, eyes locked onto the tree that was once again surrounded by the fog of war.

Carefully, she pulled the arrow out of her shoulder and pressed the wound tightly to help stop the bleeding. She felt the vague presence of her team members in her head, wondering why she hadn't returned to her lane, but she tuned them out with practiced ease and kept her focus on the hidden archer. If her opponent felt no need to stay in lane, she wouldn't, either. Besides, this was far more interesting.

Another arrow whistled through the rain, and Katarina barely had enough time to jump, letting it sink into the saturated ground beside her. She followed the arrow's path and realized it had come from a different tree. The archer was on the move.

Crouching low, Katarina left the relative shelter of the long grass and waded across the river, coming to a halt at the base of the tree where she had first glimpsed the figure. She inspected the ground carefully, searching for footsteps or-

_Blood. _Katarina grinned in triumph as she caught sight of the small red puddle that was already soaking into the ground with the rain. Her knife had struck true, and her enemy was wounded. She felt another jolt of pain in her shoulder and knew she'd have to be a little more careful, but her instincts were already sharpening, her body thrumming with adrenaline.

A shadow moved through the fog to her right, and she aimed at a streak of white hair, ducking to avoid another arrow that hit the tree behind her head. She smirked at the bad shot before a volley followed it without warning as the skilled archer fired several icy arrows at once. The Sinister Blade had no time to react, and the next moment found her pinned to the tree behind her, the frigid arrows driven through her arms, their icy composition providing a sharp contrast to the burning agony she felt an instant later. Pain exploded in her body and she grit her teeth in anger, struggling in vain.

The archer's cowl dropped and Katarina found herself staring into the cold, determined face of Ashe, the Frost Archer as she strung one last arrow and raised her bow, aiming the shot directly at Katarina's heart.

The Sinister Blade inhaled sharply, channeling all of the adrenaline in her body, feeling her powerful killer instincts kick in. The moment the arrow was released, she disintegrated in a puff of deep purple smoke, causing the shot to lodge itself into the blood-soaked tree. Ashe had no time to react before the badly wounded assassin was directly behind her, one hand knocking the bow from her grip and clutching her wrist tightly, the other pressing a knife to her throat.

She gave the other woman a mere instant to feel her fear before viciously dragging the blade across her skin. Normally, she liked to revel in slaughter, but ever since she joined the League she'd forced herself to be more…efficient with her timing. As the announcer's voice cut through the sounds of the storm to broadcast her kill, Katarina did allow herself a moment to catch her breath while she held the lifeless archer in her arms.

She felt that her body was nearly spent, and the pain was stronger now, throbbing angrily as the accelerated healing in the arena pulled the wounds shut – still too slowly for her liking. She knew she'd have to be very careful in her escape back to her team's fountain, where she could quickly recover from the gouges that Ashe's arrows have carved into her body.

Katarina looked down at the woman she still held. _Cold,_ she remarked to herself. The Frost Archer was one of the few opponents she'd ever faced whose body was cold before she lay dead. The assassin found that fact slightly unnerving.

_I have to move,_ she thought to herself. She would much later come to question the care with which she lowered Ashe's body to the ground, but in this moment, her only thought was to hug the river bank and keep quiet. She scanned through the rain for any signs of another enemy. They would all have heard the announcer's declaration of First Blood, and they likely knew she had been in this area when she made the kill. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary –

"ARRRGGHHH!"

An enraged Tryndamere appeared from the bushes, swinging a hulking blade over his shoulder. Katarina sprang up from her position beside his dead wife and took off in the direction of her turret. Despite the fact that he dragged an enormous sword with him, the barbarian was actually quite fast, and the assassin moved slower than normal due to her injuries. She tried to muster up enough strength for another Shunpo to escape, but her body was still too drained.

She heard the man behind her lift his sword high over his head. A crushing weight slammed into her skull and the world went black instantly.

* * *

><p>Katarina was floating high above the battlefield, mercifully painless. She could still hear the dull sounds of rain falling all around her, but the storm didn't seem to touch her at all. She felt as if she were in a trance, or perhaps a dream; her mind was too distorted to present an apt comparison.<p>

She saw a sequence of lights flash gently before her eyes and she was pulled higher, beyond the clouds and well beyond the reaches of Summoner's Rift. The storm was fading now, and with it the announcer's voice, pronouncing her dead…

With a jolt, Katarina felt the process reverse itself. She was plummeting towards the ground, feeling quickly returning to her limbs. All around her, she heard a deafening rush closing in on her, putting pressure on her from all sides. The lights in front of her eyes faded and flickered out, and she could once again feel the raindrops beating against her skin…

Katarina opened her eyes and found herself standing at her team's illuminated purple fountain, restored to full health instantaneously, pulled from the brink of death just as she had been countless times before. She shook her head to clear it, scolding herself for her slow reactions in the jungle.

"Good, she's back. Are you ready to actually play the game now?" snarled an unkind voice from beside her. Renekton towered over her, having ported back to the fountain of his own accord, rather than having been forced to return by the pull of resurrection.

Katarina cursed the Summoner's magic that forbade her from attacking her own teammates. "Jealous of my First Blood, Scale Face?" she spat, dashing off of the fountain before the crocodile could respond properly.

"Not funny!" he called to her retreating figure, "How about you stay in your damn lane this time!"

* * *

><p>By the time Katarina found herself back at home on the summoning platform, she had taken quite a beating. Despite her First Blood, her team had performed poorly for the rest of the match, and she had been slaughtered several more times by an overzealous Tryndamere who simply refused to die. He and Ashe had carried their team with brute force, with Ashe's first death the only loss between the two of them.<p>

The ten champions from the match stood on the illuminated dais, exhausted from the long and brutal battle. Katarina herself was drenched to the bone with rain and blood, having been pulled from the match just as she was executing another Death Lotus among her enemy. She felt a strange disorientation as her opposing team members stood on the platform next to her, and she had to remind herself that the battle was over and she could not attack them now. A brief shake of her head cleared the lingering urge to kill.

She was supposed to be gracious, now, right? The Head Summoners encouraged camaraderie between all champions, and it was traditional to compliment your opponents' skills after a defeat. Biting back the rage she felt at losing, she took a step towards Ashe, intending to spit a cruel imitation of "good game" before departing.

Before she had the chance to speak, a heavy arm came around the Frost Archer's shoulders, gripping her possessively. Tryndamere wore a hard expression as he steered his wife away from the gathering of champions, leading her off of the dais and down the hall without a word. Katarina watched their departure with a stir of vague curiosity. Ashe's face, cold and unreadable, was quickly hidden by a curtain of wet hair, stained from the battle and no longer shimmering white.

Her observation was interrupted by Renekton, who broke away from the others to approach her. "You do realize that you lost us the match, right?" he growled.

She did, deep down. Despite her many kills, Katarina had taken far too many hits in return. The tower she had been assigned to defend had been the first to fall. But she would never admit that; not to herself, and certainly not to Renekton.

"My blade saw more blood than yours, Scale Face." She felt him stir angrily at the use of the nickname. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd addressed him properly.

"Yes, and so did your body," he spat. The rest of the champions were clearing out now, unwilling to stay for the argument of two of the most volatile champions in the League.

"At least I was actually _helping_," she countered, turning on her heal to face the enormous crocodile. "I can't say the same for you."

Renekton's eyes narrowed to slits at the Sinister Blade, and he unconsciously bared more teeth at her. "It's called 'backdooring,' but what would you know of strategy –"

"Enough."

A stern voice cut through the air, silencing the two champions. Katarina turned to see the approaching figure of General Swain, the only man she knew who managed to look imposing while walking with a cane. His bird settled on his shoulder, glaring at the both of them, but his own face was impassive. "Katarina, may I have a word?"

"Really, Swain?" Katarina gestured to her outfit, which was still torn, soaked, and covered in fresh blood. Although the summoning magic restored all champions to full health after a match, it didn't do much for one's appearance. "Not now. I'm going to my room."

She stalked off the dais, radiating frustration. She heard Renekton snort in amusement behind her. That didn't help her mood.

Swain seemed to want to speak to her as she passed; he thought better of it, shut his mouth, then thought better of it again. "Did you win?" he called to her retreating figure.

She didn't bother answering.

* * *

><p>Unfortunately, it didn't look like Katarina was going to get the alone time she craved any time soon. When she arrived at her quarters, Cassiopeia was standing guard at the door, arms crossed over her chest, her serpentine tail flicking in impatience. She heard her sister approaching and dropped her stance, nodding her head in welcome.<p>

"Did you win?" she asked, echoing Swain. It was a typical greeting among League champions. Katarina again chose to remain silent, opening her door and stepping inside the dimly-lit room. Cassiopeia entered behind her, noting her sister's silence.

"Has Swain talked to you yet?"

Katarina opened her dresser and began pulling out another set of clothing. "No, but he tried. What does he want?"

"He wants us to return to Noxus on our day off tomorrow," she said in a bored tone, "Something about a war council."

_Intriguing,_ thought Katarina with a glance over her shoulder. "Did he say anything else?"

Cassiopeia shook her head.

"Is it just for one day?"

"Apparently we would return the morning after."

Katarina paused to think, but couldn't come up with any particular reason why a war council would be necessary at this time. It was likely just going to degenerate into a bunch of old men yelling at each other over the supposed best way to crush Demacia, generating unrealistic plans and frustrating everyone involved.

"Excellent," muttered Katarina sarcastically, her vague interest fading quickly.

Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow at her sister's tone. "Thought you'd be happy."

"Yes. Happy to listen to old men yell about how to destroy Demacia and talk themselves in circles." She rolled her eyes. "No one ever generates a workable strategy, and besides, this isn't the time for a real invasion. It's all for show; just old men clawing for power." She unbuckled the belt of knives that surrounded her waist. "And we're just symbols."

Cassiopeia smirked. "Who knows, maybe someone has a strategy this time. Swain sure looked confident."

Did he? Katarina thought back to when he'd met her after the match, but his demeanor didn't seem much different to her. She had no doubt that he'd be just as eager to seize control as anyone else when the council convened. She shrugged, pulling a towel out of the closet. Cassiopeia noted the streaks of blood across her outfit as she moved.

"Busy match?"

Katarina sighed heavily and glared at her sister. "Must you?"

"Must I what?" her sister countered defensively. "Pardon me for trying to make conversation."

Katarina ignored her.

"You're downright unpleasant sometimes, you know that?"

"What a shame," she mumbled, "I try to be downright unpleasant _all _the time."

"Katarina, the Sinister Bitch," Cassiopeia mocked.

"Can you leave so I can shower?" snapped Katarina, now thoroughly annoyed.

Exasperated, the half-serpent slithered out the door, slamming it behind her and leaving the assassin to herself. She grabbed the stack of clothing she'd gathered and headed into the bathroom, peeling off her ruined outfit.

She paused in front of the mirror, examining her reflection. Her face was stained with streaks of someone else's blood, accentuating her curtain of crimson hair and the prominent scar across her right eye. On impulse, she raised a hand and rubbed the blood off of her face, wiping it across the mirror to hide her reflection. With a sigh, she turned to the shower and decided to make herself look more presentable.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: In Council

Katarina stood on the steps of the Institute, waiting with the others for the heavily-armored military van that would be arriving to take the Noxians home. By the looks of things, they weren't the only ones leaving the Institute on their day off. In the distance, Prince Jarvan was climbing into a royal carriage that prominently bore a Demacian standard, earning a disgruntled growl from the Noxians at the entrance.

A tired-looking Ashe passed through the waiting crowd with her cowl up. She walked right by Katarina, who caught sight of a dark bruise on her face as she passed. The Noxian watched her retreating figure with vague curiosity until Tryndamere pushed passed her, hot on his wife's heels. She observed as the archer mounted an elegant white horse that stood awaiting her. Instead of waiting for her husband, she drove her heels into the beast's sides and aimed north. Tryndamere let out a few choice swears and mounted his own black horse, riding at a gallop after the Frost Archer.

Katarina had no time to contemplate the bizarre scene, as the Noxian military van had just arrived, sporting an unexpected escort of guardsmen. She turned to Swain with a raised eyebrow. "Is that really necessary?"

The general shrugged. "Noxus takes care of its champions." He went to speak with the guardsmen.

"It will be nice to return home again," sighed Cassiopeia almost wistfully, gliding past her sister and into the van.

Katarina shook her head slightly, conflicted. She was always glad to return to Noxus - the city warmed her and filled her with purpose in a way nothing else on Earth could. Yet her reasons for returning today were anything but pleasant.

* * *

><p>"An <em>air strike? <em>Are you insane?"

"We could tunnel under the city!"

"Bombs! Bombs _everywhere_!"

Katarina sighed as the war council rapidly degenerated into ideas that Katarina knew would never see the light of day. Quite sad, considering the meeting was only thirteen minutes in. She'd barely listened to a word anyone had spoken, and no one was about to ask for her opinion. That had been made quite clear in the past: she would fight, not speak. Councils were not her forte; action was.

She pulled out her knife and began to carve intricate designs in the wood of the table before her. A few of the elders sitting near her took note of this action and turned away from the antics unfolding long enough to scowl at her, but no one dared tell her to stop.

The meeting continued in a similar fashion for another few hours, with each minute dragging on for what felt like an eternity to the impatient assassin. They had cycled through several rounds of shouting, calming, discussing, and shouting again before a horrific noise rang through the large room, echoing off the walls and silencing the squabbling.

Everyone turned to the head of the room, even Katarina, who looked up from her half-finished carving of the Noxian crest. A quick assessment of the room revealed the source of the sound to be Swain's bird. The man himself had stood up, gathered to his full height. He took the steps down from his elevated seat, pacing the large center of the room, looking around at the faces in the council with a hard expression. Finally, he spoke.

"We will not capture Demacia this day," he stated simply.

An angry murmur erupted from the crowd, silenced quickly by another grating squawk.

"Nor will we tomorrow. Nor the next day,"

"General Swain –" began a voice from across the room.

"No. We need to accept this," Swain said forcefully. "What you are all focusing on is direct capture of one of the strongest city-states in Valoran. We need to consider their position, their numbers, their fortifications, their vast resources. We rival them in power, sure. But that isn't enough."

He fell silent, staring at each and every face as he turned around the circle. His gaze landed on Katarina last. "We should not focus on direct capture at this point. Such a plan would be suicide. Instead, let us consider a prominent asset. Our ties with the League of Legends."

"Where are you going with this, Swain?" asked another impatient voice.

The General smiled at the man, though his bird gave another angry shriek in his direction. "None of us can jump headfirst from peace to war. There must be planning and caution. I want all of you to ask yourself how serious you are about breaking the peace, about capturing Demacia. How far you are willing to go."

He paused for a moment, allowing the words to sink in before continuing. "We have direct contact with several very prominent Demacians on a daily basis. And not only Demacians; we have access to many important members of Valoran society. And we are not taking advantage of this."

"Hold on," said the man who had spoken before, "You're a League champion. You know better than all of us how binding the laws are. We can't touch another League member."

"This is true," agreed Swain, "At least…not yet."

Another murmur of surprise rippled through the crowd. It was Cassiopeia who broke through it this time. "Be realistic, Swain. The Demacians are too well guarded. Even if we were willing to disregard the law, they're still practically untouchable."

"Ah, but they're the only champions with a guard."

"What are you implying?"

Swain's smile returned. "I'd like to propose a two-part plan. The first: utilization of the League to gather intelligence on the Demacians as well as other prominent dignitaries within the League. The second: a direct show of force. Perhaps not against the Demacians, perhaps directed at them. A display to make them fear us."

"And what would that 'display' entail?" asked Katarina, speaking for the first time and causing several heads to turn in surprise.

"To be decided," replied Swain, "Mostly based on what our intelligence reveals."

"And who would be gathering this information?" she asked, figuring she knew the answer already.

"You. Cassiopeia. Talon. Myself. And perhaps other Noxians who we can get inside of the Institute."

"And how?"

The General looked at her for a moment, then at Cassiopeia. "Simple," he said, "start talking to people."

Katarina rolled her eyes and sat back down, her interest lost. "Sure. Let's talk the Demacians to death." She began carving images into the desk again.

Swain sighed heavily, fixing her with a hard stare. "When was the last time you set foot out of the East Wing?" he asked, referring to the traditional layout of the Institute. Noxians and their allies occupied much of the East Wing, and Demacians much of the West Wing. There was no specific law enforcing this, but most champions followed the lines fairly well, anyway.

Katarina scoffed. "Never."

"And how do you expect to defeat an enemy you don't know?" he asked, leaning forward on his cane. The assassin paused her carving long enough to glare at him, but he had already turned away from her to once again address the council. "We must not let this connection go to waste any longer. We have an opportunity that is very easy to exploit. And what do we really know about our enemies? Have we gathered any information since the peace was declared?"

The tension in the room thickened until several men stood up and nodded their heads in approval. Soft murmurs filled the room for a time as the proposal was debated. One by one, hands started rising. By the time the murmurings had ceased, every hand save Katarina's was in the air.

* * *

><p>"I want this plan implemented immediately," Swain said in the dark confines of the armored truck. "Phase one is crucial. We must establish a trust between ourselves and those who hold power. Don't just focus on Demacia, either. Piltover, Freljord, Bandle City, Ionia…we need connections with key champions from these regions."<p>

Cassiopeia lay languid across a row of seats, her serpentine tail flicking as she considered Swain's words. "And what is the final goal?"

"Seeking weak points, ultimately" clarified Swain, "but for now, anything goes. The council has determined that it wants a broad account of all the champions we can gather information for, including the Demacians, should we get close enough," he clarified with a grim smile. "A little of your seduction should go a long way."

The serpent let out a pleasant hiss. "I can do that."

Swain turned to Katarina, who was sitting across from them, absently playing with her knives. She had been listening to every word, but pretended otherwise. Her thoughts were in conflict, and she loathed the task ahead of her.

"I expect your help as well, Sinister Blade," Swain said with emphasis, as if he were speaking to a disobedient child.

The woman glared at him in response. "This isn't my area of expertise." She threw a knife into the air and caught it with two fingers.

"It could be," he offered. "You're quite stealthy. I'm sure you could pick up plenty of useful information. And, frankly, a little bit of social interaction could do you some good." When he was met with only a glower from the unhappy assassin, he softened slightly. "I promise, Katarina, your time will come. But," he said, resuming his stern manner, "you have to learn to control yourself. I can't have you disrespecting the people we're meant to be talking to."

Katarina felt her already-smoldering temper flare at the general's tone. "You dare talk to me like I'm a child, you fuc –"

"Let's start right now," interrupted Swain, completely unruffled, "With something I like to call 'self-censorship.'"

The assassin jumped off her seat, and crossed the tight space, leaning right before him with her eyes narrowed in a threatening expression. She held a knife low down, slipping it out of her belt with ease and running her finger over the blade. The end result was certainly intimidating and would have made nearly anyone turn away in fear, but Swain appeared unbothered. The bird on his shoulder flew into the air at the sudden movement, squawking madly. A tense moment passed.

"Really, Kat?" said Cassiopeia.

"Stay out of this, you filthy whore," spat her sister.

The half-serpent stiffened, rising from her seat, emerald eyes narrowed to slits. "How dare you –"

"Not you as well, Cassie," said Swain, sounding more bored than anything. His bird had again landed on his shoulder and was shifting nervously on its perch. Its owner turned his eyes back to Katarina.

"You see, this is what I'm talking about," he droned. "That temper of yours. And you wonder why people don't like you."

The assassin tightened her grip on the knife at her belt. "I'm not here to make friends."

Swain actually had the audacity to smile. "You are now. And unless you make efforts in this phase, you could be denied any participation in future endeavors."

"Are you seriously threatening me with discharge?"

"Am I?"

Katarina scoffed in his face. "You don't have that kind of power."

Swain looked at her thoughtfully. "Don't I? The council makes all decisions at the moment. As a League champion under Noxus, you could even be removed from the Institute." He looked away from her hard gaze. "And I believe we all saw how much weight I carry in the council."

"You wouldn't dare."

He smiled again, warmer this time. "This is all hypothetical, of course."

Katarina's gaze didn't falter.

"All I ask," he continued, "Is that you conduct yourself with the professionalism I know you're capable of. I have given you freedoms that I would not grant to anyone else under me, but these little lapses of yours will not be tolerated. You have the training, you only need to use it."

She did not move.

"And remember that you answer to me," he reminded sternly, the slightest hint of impatience showing.

"I answer to Noxus above all else," she retorted. After a moment, she moved back to her seat, but she continued to stare at him with hard, angry eyes. "I'll have my moment."

"I will ensure that personally. I would not waste your impeccable talents."

She said nothing, sitting in silence until the van came to a halt outside of the Institute. She was through the doors and on the ground before it could completely stop. Instead of heading to the Institute building, as she had planned, Katarina found herself wandering into the surrounding trees with her thoughts.

Despite her aversion to Swain's passivity, her mind was already developing a strategy. It didn't sound as though the general expected her to have any stunningly complex social interactions, though she knew that she would have to participate in some way. Somewhere deep within her, she felt respect at the man for taking such an unconventional plan, but the part of her that regarded violence as a much stronger solution would never let that part speak.

So she would make…friends. She tried the word out, then discarded it as ridiculous. She would gather information from acquaintances through the use of clever, to-be-developed verbal tactics.

_Oh, for fuck's sake, this is impossible, _she thought to herself. _What am I even supposed to be learning? _The council had decided that "any and all information was to be reported until further notice, at such time when a focus can be narrowed on particular subjects". So…should she go learn the color of Malzahar's underwear? Discover the true location of the bear Tibbers? Find out if Janna really _was _running that rumored phone sex service?

Swain had promised that she would eventually be allowed to exercise her more…violent tendencies at some point during the mission. At least she had something to look forward to, provided he kept his word, though, by the sound of things, that would take a while. The plan was entirely based in the League at this point, and violence off of the Fields of Justice was strictly prohibited –

_Thwack!_

Without warning, an icy arrow sailed through the air and buried itself into a tree trunk right beside her, coming to rest merely inches away from Katarina's chest. Alarmed, the assassin's killer instincts triggered, and her hand held a blade an instant later. She ducked behind the trunk, her eyes darting around the clearing, searching for her attacker.

"Well. That was a little more than I had expected," said a familiar voice from above her head. Startled, the Noxian's eyes flew to the trees, narrowing on the cloaked figure that perched on one of the branches.

Katarina barely resisted the urge to hurl her blade at the Frost Archer. "What the hell are you doing here?" she spat, using harsh words instead of knives to channel her adrenaline rush.

Ashe raised an eyebrow at her. "Guard duty," she remarked casually.

Katarina still hadn't lowered her blade. A moment of heavy silence filled the trees.

"I think," Ashe began, observing the tension in the Noxian's body, "We both know that, had I actually been trying to hit you, you would be pinned to that tree right now."

Katarina still did not move, so Ashe nonchalantly set her bow down on the tree limb beside her.

Another moment passed. Finally, Katarina exhaled heavily and lowered her blade. "Don't do that again," she warned darkly, knowing that she had been inches from attacking the other woman. So much for peaceful diplomacy.

Ashe gave a small smile. "I wasn't sure I could manage to startle you," she remarked, sitting down on the big limb, her back against the tree trunk. "I wanted to commend you on your skills in battle the other day."

Katarina raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Your escape," she clarified. "And your chase. You're an interesting opponent, Noxian. I hope fate pits us together in the future."

_Why the hell is she complimenting me? _Thought Katarina, her stance lowered but her body still tense. "I would have had you if it weren't for the Barbarian."

At the mention of her husband, Ashe's friendly look faded instantly. Katarina caught the change as Ashe looked down at the ground, absently raising a hand to brush some loose strands of snow white hair from her face. Katarina observed the motion, again noticing the remains of the bruise she had seen before. _And what is that?_

She was opening her mouth to ask the question before the archer cut her off. "I was going to warn you not to go walking out here," she said suddenly, her voice less warm then before. At Katarina's confused look, she gestured to the ground. "Teemo's the other guard on duty."

The Noxian uneasily looked around the clearing. "He wouldn't…"

Despite the Institute's firm warnings about improper mushroom placement, the tiny Yordle never quite seemed to listen to the Summoners.

"I wouldn't put it past him. There's a reason I'm up in this tree," answered Ashe. "Just retrace your steps and you should be fine."

Katarina nearly shrugged off her advice, then remembered Swain's words. "Uh…thanks for the warning," she muttered, still looking at the ground with distrust. She heard the Frost Archer pick up her bow and looked up to see her leaping to another tree. "Wait!" she called.

Ashe stopped and turned back to face her. Katarina stared at her for a moment, unsure of why she had felt the need to call out. She struggled to collect her thoughts for a moment before pointing to the arrow, still embedded in the tree. "You still didn't tell me what that was for."

Ashe's vaguely friendly smile returned. "Something to remember me by." Before Katarina could respond, she nimbly leapt to another tree and was out of sight.

Katarina turned and looked at the arrow, observing it closely. The first thing she noticed surprised her: it was nearly half-buried into the tree trunk. Unable to fire a bow herself, the Noxian was unsure of just how much force that would take, but she guessed that it was quite a lot. She looked at it from all angles, trying to determine the best way to remove it from the tree.

After a minute of deliberation, she finally grabbed the end and heaved. The arrow didn't budge. She tried again with similar results.

Annoyed, she pulled out one of her knives and started hacking at the wood surrounding the point of entry. After a half hour of scraping, the arrow finally fell into her open palm.

She looked at the missile in surprise, noting that it was still freezing cold to the touch, despite the warm air. A closer examination of the head found an intricate lattice of un-melting ice crystals surrounding the arrow itself. The ice reflected the light like a prism, causing a beautiful glare. Katarina studied it for another moment, transfixed. Finally, she pocketed the arrow and turned to leave the clearing…

…and fell to the ground as a cloud of purple poison exploded in the air around her.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Unseen

"Sit still!" scolded Soraka, holding Katarina's arms by her sides.

The Noxian glared at her healer with open hostility, her body shaking with violent jerks. The Institute's only hospital was operated by Ionians, and the idea of putting herself under the care of the Starchild while in such a vulnerable condition did not please Katarina. The look Soraka was giving her was disapproving, but didn't seem to be loaded with anything heavier. Still, the assassin lay tense on the table as her body shook involuntarily.

Soraka's face softened slightly and she released her hold on Katarina's arms. "Please. Relax as much as you can."

Slowly, Katarina managed to unclench her fists. Her shakes escalated and she winced as a bolt of pain shot through her body.

"Teemo's poison attacks muscle tissue," explained Soraka. "The effects have a very short duration on the Fields of Justice, but you're getting the uninhibited version."

Katarina lay silent, closing her eyes tightly as she tried to will her body into stillness. She could still feel her limbs, though they twitched periodically and hardly responded to her commands. A sharp jab in her arm broke her concentration and her eyes shot open to glare at the syringe in Soraka's hand with a pointed hatred.

"It's to numb the pain," she said in a level voice. "It should begin working in the next few minutes."

Katarina's look did not fade. "Warn me first," she growled.

Soraka turned away. "You are far from the first Noxian I've treated."

"And how many have you killed?"

"I could ask you the same of my people, Sinister Blade, and your answer would far surpass mine."

Katarina opened her mouth to retort, but remembered Swain's words and shut it again. Now was not the time to make enemies. That day would come later, and she would be ready. But it was so tempting…if her limbs were still under her control, she would have punished the Starchild for her words. _No, _she scolded herself. _Behave. _

A door opened, diffusing the remaining tension, and Katarina watched as Ashe entered the room. Soraka looked up as well, her face a mask of surprise and confusion. "Just a visit," said Ashe quietly. "I won't be long. They said it was alright."

The healer's surprise didn't fade, but she faced away from the Frost Archer, who turned her sympathetic gaze to Katarina's rigid form. "I did warn you."

The assassin grumbled in response and Ashe approached her bedside. "Can you move at all?"

_Why is she here? _The idea of having visitors while in such a state was not pleasant – here she was, completely defenseless, in a room with two foreigners. And worse, one of them was an Ionian. She cursed Swain silently to herself.

The Noxian glanced down at her body and realized with vague concern that she couldn't feel anything below her neck. "No," she said in reply.

Soraka turned around. "That means it's working." She thrust a hand in Katarina's face, clutching a small, blue pill between her fingers. The Noxian's distrustful look returned.

"I'm not going to poison you," she sighed. "Just open your mouth."

Katarina grudgingly took the pill, swallowing with great difficulty. "It tastes like piss."

Soraka chose to ignore her. "It should help negate the poison. You should be fine in the morning. I'll have your personal items returned to your room." She moved to the side table and began to gather the pile of belts and knives, as well as the lone icy arrow.

"No!" snapped Katarina suddenly, reacting instinctively to the idea of an Ionian handling her blades. The healer raised an eyebrow at her and the assassin again recalled Swain's words.

"Leave them. Please."

Without a word, Soraka turned to leave, casting another look of confusion towards Ashe, who was too busy staring at the pile on the table to notice. Slowly, she reached out and took the arrow.

"I'm surprised you managed to remove it…" she whispered, her soft tone catching Katarina off guard.

"Well…it wasn't exactly difficult," she lied.

Ashe looked at her with an expression that let Katarina know that she had caught the lie, but she otherwise let the remark go unchallenged and placed the arrow back on the table. "Anyway, I came here to make sure you were alright and to let you know that Teemo's being scolded again."

The assassin snorted softly. "As if that will help."

Ashe smirked, absently brushing her hair out of her eyes and revealing the not-quite-healed bruise.

"What's that from?" Katarina asked before she could stop herself.

"Hmm?"

"Your bruise."

Ashe's hand flew to the discolored stain under her left eye. "Training accident," she replied quickly. "Stupid, really. I drew my bow wrong and the recoil hit me."

Katarina frowned, sill staring at the mark. She couldn't quite match the injury to its description. A taut arrow string would make a stinging welt, not a bruise. And the mistake sounded elementary to Katarina – the sort of thing she herself would do if she was given a bow, the same way a green assassin might cut his fingers while attempting to sheath his knife. But she was well-trained and far beyond such mistakes, the same way that Ashe was a master with the bow.

It didn't totally matter to her, but she had spent enough time in torture chambers to gain a certain understanding of when someone was lying.

Katarina opened her mouth to speak before her door opened again, this time revealing the figure of General Swain. He stepped into the room and paused to take in the scene with well concealed surprise.

"May I have a word with Miss Du Couteau please?"

Katarina raised an eyebrow at the use of her last name, and she noted Ashe looked uncomfortable in the presence of the Noxian general. "Feel better," she said as she left the room.

Swain closed the door behind her and let the surprise show on his face. "What interesting company you keep."

"Thought you wanted me to be social," Katarina retorted.

"Forgive me if I didn't expect you to take the assignment to heart," replied the general, taking a step closer to the bed and looking down at the assassin's rigid form with a frown on his face. "I also wasn't expecting you to be bedridden so quickly."

"Save it, Swain," she snapped. "Why are you here?"

He tsk-ed softly in annoyance, his bird giving a quick ruffle of its feathers. "I was going to apologize for leaving you under the care of the Ionians, but I don't feel inclined to do so anymore. I also wanted to ask when you're getting released."

"Tomorrow."

"Good." He turned away from her the moment he was assured that his pawn was not going to be out of commission for too long. At least, that was what Katarina thought with a certain level of very well-concealed disdain as she watched the well-dressed man stare with a frown at the Ionian crest displayed proudly on the wall. "Now, why is the Frost Archer coming to visit you?"

"How would I know?" shouted the assassin in annoyance. Her head began to grow light and Swain's figure distorted slightly.

"Interesting…" Swain whispered to himself. He glanced back at her, and through the growing haze Katarina caught the pity in his expression. She wished she could wipe the look off of his face.

"Get some rest. I can't have you looking like that tomorrow. And keep me updated. The Frost Archer is an excellent start." Without waiting for a reply, he crossed to the door and was gone, leaving Katarina alone with her thoughts.

Though she loathed the feeling of helplessness, she was only able to let out a quiet groan of frustration as her body lay perfectly still and rigid on the bed. The shapes of the room continued to blend into odd mixes of colors as her head grew lighter. Eventually, she succumbed to the haze in her brain and drifted into a deep sleep.

* * *

><p>Many hours later, Katarina awoke with great confusion. Someone had moved her from the hospital to her room, and the lingering effects of the drugs gave her no memory of falling asleep. Slowly, she rose from the bed, testing her limbs as she stood. Everything seemed to be in working order.<p>

"Finally, you're awake."

Katarina's head shot up and she instinctively moved to pull a knife from her belt, her fist closing on open air as she met the amused gaze of her sister.

"Don't startle me like that!" she growled at Cassiopeia, whose expression did not fade.

"What a way to greet someone who waited by your bedside."

Katarina turned away in response, searching for her knives.

"You're off the Fields of Justice for today," said Cassiopeia casually, "Maybe tomorrow, too."

"I'm perfectly fine," muttered the assassin through clenched teeth, opening the drawers in the dresser next to her.

"Don't shoot the messenger. Oh, and they're in the bottom left drawer."

Katarina pulled the handle viciously, revealing her pile of blades. Beneath them she could see the sleek crystal arrow gleaming in the glow of a strange blue light that came from behind her. Confused, she turned around and realized that the light was emanating from Cassiopeia, who looked pleased.

"Just what I was in the mood for," she hissed as the Summoning magic began to take hold. "Enjoy your day off, sister."

The assassin sighed, fighting back her jealousy. How badly she wanted to kill things after her last few boring days. "I need a drink."

"Don't go to Singed's place," her sister warned in parting. "It's closed for cleaning. The little voidling vomited everywhere." The blue glow intensified, and Cassiopeia's body began to shimmer. In the blink of an eye she was gone.

"Damn it!" Katarina swore. Singed ran the bar in the eastern wing and typically served champions and summoners allied to Noxus and Zaun, while Gragas ran an opposing business in the western wing for those allied to Demacia, Ionia, and Freljord. The two had started out in business together until the League had forced the creation of another bar due to the tendency of opposing city-state champions to brawl with each other. While there was no law banning anyone from either establishment, it was generally understood that both sides would stick to their own bar.

Katarina though for a moment, contemplating her options. She picked up the still-frozen arrow and toyed with it absently while she considered. Swain had suggested that she develop at least some form of social interaction between champions from other city-states. On the other hand, she really didn't want to find herself surrounded by Demacians now. She glanced out of the window and noticed that it was still early in the afternoon.

Well, damn it. She figured she might as well get up and go. There wasn't any point to just sitting around, especially since that was all she'd done since being hit with Teemo's poison. She stood up and tucked the arrow back in the open drawer, took a moment to replace all of her knives, and then took off for Gragas' place.

She walked through the halls without difficulty until she entered the western wing. There, she began to pass groups of Demacian-allied summoners who shot her strange expressions, some of disgust and others merely of surprise. Katarina answered the looks with threatening glares of her own before passing into the bar.

It was a well-lit place, and certainly more crowded than she would have liked. The looks she received in the hallway only intensified here. The patrons at this hour were mostly summoners, but in one corner, she caught sight of Garen, Prince Jarvan IV, and Tryndamere all sitting together, clearly drunk. Beside them on either side stood four stoic, unobtrusive-looking guards. The champions they watched over appeared to be celebrating an excellent match they had just had. From what Katarina could gather, Tryndamere had been their MVP, and he sat between the other two champions and seemed to drink enough for all three of them.

The Noxian rolled her eyes and avoided the table. Despite the fact that she had fully healed, she didn't feel in the mood to start anything with the enemy champions. She slid onto a barstool and held out a hand that closed around a bottle of Graggy Ice a moment later as Gragas answered her wordless request while hiding his surprise, for which Katarina was grateful.

She sipped the drink casually, staring off into the distance, thinking of and seeing nothing in particular. Her limbs, though fully under her control, felt slightly stiff, and she resolved to train that night before bed.

Behind her, the voices that she had been carefully tuning out erupted into laughter, and she turned to find the reason for the uproar, annoyed.

Luxanna Crowngaurd entered the bar and approached the table where the three Demacians sat, presumably to speak to Garen. Upon seeing the state of the trio, however, she seemed to think better of it, and after an instant of internal deliberation, she turned on her heal and made to leave.

Her move had proved too late, as Tryndamere had noticed her enter.

"Damn, Garen!" he roared, "That sister of yours sure has a sweet ass!"

The blonde girl winced and froze in the entrance, her face flushing a deep shade of crimson as the barbarian howled with laughter. Beside him, Garen looked confused, clearly deliberating as to whether he was supposed to laugh along with Tryndamere or punch him right in the face. After a moment, he let out a laugh as well, although Katarina had the impression that he was faking it. Or maybe he was just too drunk.

"Come on, Tryndamere," shouted Jarvan with a chuckle as he clapped his friend on the back, "You got a wife!"

"Doesn't mean I gotta ignore a fine ass when I see one!" he countered, turning back to the unsettled light mage at the entrance. "Hey, sweety!" he called in a voice that was far too loud, "C'mere and let me get a closer look at that ass of yours!"

Lux didn't move, clearly unsure as to what to do. Her face grew even redder, which only served to fuel Tryndamere's laughter.

A moment later, a familiar cowled figure entered the bar, placing a hand on Lux's shoulder. The girl jumped, startled, and turned to look at the Frost Archer with a terrified expression.

"Ashe, I-I'm so sorry," she stammered, "I didn't – "

The woman cut her off, her voice firm but kind. "I know." It was a reassurance as well as a request to leave, and Lux took it as such. She was out of sight very quickly, but the three men in the corner had yet to stop laughing.

Katarina watched with vague interest as the Frost Archer approached the table with piercing eyes, though she still seemed perfectly controlled. The strength with which she held herself was admirable.

"Tryndamere," she said sharply, her voice filled with ice. The barbarian finally ended his gut laugh and looked at his wife, his previous demeanor gone. Instead of the sheepish look Katarina had expected, Tryndamere's expression was one of annoyance, his tone rude.

"What the hell do you want?"

Ashe didn't falter. She lay her hands on the table and leaned over it, her glare intensifying. The two men on either side of Tryndamere looked uncomfortable, and the Demacian guards discreetly took a step closer, though made no move to interfere.

"I want you to get out of here, now," she said dangerously.

Her husband snorted and took another sip of his beer. He set the glass down and turned his hard gaze towards her, then began to stand up, dwarfing her with his size. "You think you're the boss of me?"

Despite the intimidation, Ashe still did not back down. "I think you've had enough."

The two stared at each other for several tense, uncomfortable moments before Jarvan cut through the silence.

"Y'know…it's getting late," he said with a glance out at the darkened window. "I think I'd better go and deal with some…stuff. You coming, Garen?"

Relieved for the distraction, the big soldier nodded enthusiastically and stood up to follow the prince. The guards surrounded them as they quickly made their way out of the bar. Tryndamere's fury was palpable, but he said nothing as his friends departed.

"Let's go," Ashe said again, turning to follow them. Tryndamere finally reacted, and his movement was sudden and rough as his huge hand closed around his wife's wrist.

"This way," he muttered darkly, pulling in the opposite direction, towards the back exit. Katarina thought that she saw a flicker of pain flash across the Frost Archer's face, but she allowed herself to be pulled in the direction of the door.

The moment it had closed behind them, Katarina was off of her stool and crossing the room, her bottle of Graggy forgotten. She paused with her hand on the doorknob, waited a moment to allow the couple to get further away from the door, then soundlessly slipped out into the night.

It was easy for her to stick to the small ledges that jutted out from the side of the building, so she quickly jumped onto a nearby trash can, climbing up the wall. She moved with her back plastered against the wall, unclear as to exactly why she felt such a need to follow the two of them, but excused her curiosity by thinking of Swain's instructions. Perhaps she would find out something of interest.

She caught up to them fairly quickly, her body plastered to the shadowy wall as she observed the barbarian practically dragging his wife down the darkening path. With a single, determined tug, Ashe managed to rip her arm from his grip, and that was all he needed to turn on her in a fit of rage.

"Don't you _dare_ waltz in on me like that!" he bellowed at his cold, unflinching wife. "I worked hard today and I damn well deserved a drink!"

The archer said nothing for a moment, and even from where she crouched, Katarina could see her eyes narrow to thin slits. She maintained the same calm, level demeanor she'd held in the bar. "You are _royalty," _she finally retorted. "_Married _royalty. You do not get to openly flirt with anyone. You need to conduct yourself in a manner fitting of your title as King of Frejlord –"

He silenced her with a sudden, hard slap to the face, right over her previous bruise. She gave the softest noise of pain at the impact.

_So that's where it came from, _thought Katarina grimly as she continued to observe the scene below.

"Don't you ever. Question me," threatened Tryndamere. "I'll conduct myself how I damn well please."

Ashe held a hand to her face, her eyes cast downwards. She took a moment to compose herself before returning to her previous position. Though she held the same expression, her eyes now smoldered with a deep, inexpressible anger. "You'll conduct yourself in a manner befitting your state," she warned.

Tryndamere grit his teeth and began to tremble. Katarina sniffed the air and realized that the faint smell of alcohol on the breeze was coming from him.

"_You bitch_!" He punched her in the gut, hard. Ashe seemed to deflate in front of him, crumbling to the ground. Any noise she made this time was caught halfway in her chest as she had the wind knocked out of her. Katarina watched, her dark eyes unblinking. She stared at the figure on the ground as the uneven echoes of Tryndamere's drunken tread led away. Ashe did not move.

_Get up, _Katarina thought, nearly voicing the silent command. The archer was breathing erratically, eyes glued to the ground with an arm clamped around her midsection. It was the look on her face that Katarina particularly noticed.

She wasn't simply angry. She was _muderous. _Katarina knew the look. It was the face of one who'd been tortured countless days in a dark Noxian prison. It was the face of one whose family had been systematically slaughtered by a single blade. Oh, she had seen the expression; but to view such pure, unfiltered hatred pouring off of the Frost Archer in heated waves was startling to anyone who'd ever known the cold, calculating face of the Frejlord Queen in battle.

A moment later, the look was gone, the cowl back in its position as Ashe returned to herself. She exhaled, coughed once, roughly, then turned to leave in the direction opposite of the path her husband had taken, completely oblivious to the curious eyes that watched her from above.

By the time the last of the archer's footsteps had faded away into the night, the assassin was already gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Target Practice

There was something about training dummies that Katarina just loved. They weren't particularly special - just enormous sacks of sawdust shaped like people, really – but they allowed her a certain, thrilling freedom to attack anyone she chose. Of course, she could not actually inflict pain on them – which was certainly disappointing – but her imagination was strong enough to accurately imagine her foe's screams of pain.

Tonight, the face on her dummy was Tryndamere's. She had always harbored a hatred for the barbarian king, born out of her time spent heading the Barbarian Pacification Campaign. Today, that was particularly palpable. Without dwelling too much on the sources of her anger, the assassin drew her knives and began senselessly slashing at her dummy, reducing it to a pile of sawdust and ribbons in less than a minute. She felt a grim satisfaction as she kicked the pile, sending a fan of dust into the air. She turned away from the mess and faced a target on the wall, hurling her knife in one smooth motion. It buried itself into the bright red circle at the center of the disk, as she knew it would.

"Good shot," said a voice from behind her, and she whirled around to face the figure of General Swain. She glowered at him in frustration. Why did everyone feel the need to sneak up on her?

Katarina ran through a list of possible retorts before shaking her head and deciding to ignore him. Beside her, the ground split open as huge talons burst forth, closing around the helpless dummy that stood there. She watched as a haze of green surrounded the figure, and it seemed to melt in on itself. She spared a glance back in Swain's direction and saw the man standing with perfect composure, as if nothing had just happened.

She turned away from him and threw another blade at the wall, burying it right beside the first one. She stared at the target for a moment, then spoke before she could change her mind.

"Tryndamere abuses his wife."

Beside her, the talons released the melted dummy and the green haze receded, leaving the air thick with the smell of burnt wood and strange chemicals. "Is that so?"

Katarina nodded and hurled a third knife.

"How certain are you?"

_Thwack._ This one hit a little lower than she had intended. "Positive."

She heard the distinct sound of Swain deliberating a strategy. She waited a moment before she heard him mutter a soft, "Interesting."

_Clang. _The fourth blade managed to hit the protruding end of the first, and it fell to the ground uselessly.

"I'd like you to continue investigating this," Swain said finally. "And good job," he added. "Your sister has already found some good information as well from a few of the Yordles."

Katarina winced at the unfortunate mental image of her sister extracting information from Yordles. Swain either did not notice the motion or chose to ignore it. She heard his retreating footsteps moments later, and she unconsciously let out the breath she had been holding.

Gazing down at the knife in her hand, the assassin considered her options. It was too early for her to consider going to sleep under normal conditions, but she could think of no reason to continue to stay awake. She examined the blade in her hand carefully, admiring its razor sharp, well-tended edge. She stood for a moment in the silence before moving to gather up the blades embedded in the wall. She left the training center soon after, in no better mood than when she'd entered it.

That night, she lay on the bed and watched the shadows play across the ceiling, unable to sleep.

* * *

><p>When the first rays of sunlight passed through the window, Katarina was pulled out of her reverie when she felt a familiar itch deep inside of her. She sat up on the bed as a soft blue glow danced across her skin, lighting up the room. A voice inside her mind whispered the words of her summons.<p>

Normally, this would have pleased her, but her sleepless night did not leave her particularly thrilled at the prospect of facing a battle. She grumbled as she pulled herself into a sitting position and allowed herself to stretch in the few moments she had before summoning. _At least they deemed me fit to fight, _she thought, still somewhat bitterly.

An instant after the thought had occurred to her, she found herself standing on the familiar stone dais, four other champions arranged in the circle. Kassadin, Talon, Miss Fortune, and Alistar all stood in a huddle, discussing strategy in low voices. When Katarina appeared, they all turned to look at her with raised eyebrows.

Miss Fortune sneered at her. "You ready to fight, sleeping beauty?"

Katarina knew that she probably looked like shit. She wasn't particularly fond of early morning fights, anyway. Still, she didn't want to give the trigger-happy pirate the idea that she was anything besides capable and deadly. Focusing her energy, she dissipated into a puff of purple smoke and appeared right behind the other woman. Her quick movement had clearly unsettled the bounty hunter.

"Ready," she whispered darkly, feeling her body thrum with energy. She felt the weight of exhaustion draining out of her slowly, preparing her for the battle.

"I'll be waiting in the jungle to help you," said Talon.

Katarina looked over at him, her eyes narrowing. She was determined not to show any sign of weakness in this match. "You don't need to babysit me."

Despite her words, she knew Talon would still focus on her lane, no matter what she said to him. She decided to let the matter go, and forced herself to vaguely listen to her team's plans. The strategy was fairly basic, with no early surprises planned. Katarina fiddled with the knives at her belt. After several minutes, the illumination from the dais intensified, and the five champions found themselves standing on the Fields of Justice.

"Welcome to Summoner's Rift!" boomed the voice of the announcer whom they had all heard countless times before.

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Katarina, stepping off of the bright fountain without a word to her teammates. She wondered who she would have to fight. Her team had decided to send her to the top lane, and she arrived at the outermost tower and crouched low at its base, blending into the shadow it cast.

The sun finally finished peaking over the horizon as she settled, flooding the Rift with warm, early morning rays. All was silent save for the gentle breath of wind through the trees and the ethereal presence of the four other champions inside of Katarina's head. The tranquility was in stark contrast to the storm she had faced during her last match.

All at once it intensified, the air around her stilling for just a moment. She drew a deep breath as the energy around her shifted, releasing it when the announcer's voice again rang over the trees, signifying the true start of the battle.

A line of mindless little minions passed her and met an opposing line of equally mindless little minions. They began purposefully beating each other senseless, and Katarina watched, coiled like a spring, waiting to see who would come and join the fight. She counted the seconds as they passed, and just as she was beginning to wonder if her enemy had deviated from the typical script, a hulking figure emerged from the edge of the fog of war, and the assassin nearly groaned.

_Figures it would be him. _

Abandoning any attempt at stealth – but only for the time being – Katarina rolled out from her hiding place and stood in one fluid motion, rising to meet her opponent across the line of tiny minions.

"Great, it's Scale Face," she scowled, and the crocodile looked up at her with an expression that perfectly mirrored her displeasure.

"Sinister Blade," Renekton growled through his enormous teeth. "I almost didn't recognize you, since you were actually in your _lane_." The last word was punctuated with a complicated flourish, and the enormous blade attached to his forearm followed his movements, striking down a line of Katarina's minions and forcing those behind to advance closer to her tower, where she struck them down with a few quick slashes of her knife.

"I recognized you easily. It's hard to miss such a _beautiful face_," she mocked as she fought.

The crocodile snorted with disgust, snapping his jaws shut tightly. "Funny that you say that, when you look as if Blitzcrank ran you over this morning."

Katarina was about to snap a retort when she became aware of Talon's presence in the surrounding jungle. She mentally cursed him, knowing that he was ignoring her earlier comment. _I'm doing fine here, _she mentally berated.

_If you distract him, I can sneak behind and catch him off-guard, _Talon replied calmly.

Katarina grit her teeth, but decided to go along with his plan. Distracting Renekton typically wasn't very difficult for her. She turned back to the crocodile, watching him make short work of her minions, but she wasn't fooled by his rapt attention to his blade movements; he was watching her every move, she was sure of it, waiting for her to make a mistake. He seemed oblivious to Talon's proximity.

"I've been thinking about getting my sister a gift," said Katarina casually. Renekton paused in his fighting long enough to shoot her a dark scowl.

"Am I supposed to care?" he snapped his teeth again, and another line of his minions pushed hers back. Katarina noticed that she was now nearly at the base of her turret. She could see Talon emerge from the jungle and pass behind the distracted crocodile. _Wait…_he warned silently.

"Well, I was thinking that you should, since I'm planning on making her a purse out of your face." Renekton snorted in annoyance, lowering his blade and opening his mouth to say something in reply.

_Now, _whispered Talon.

In a flash, he was right beside Renekton, silencing whatever retort the crocodile was about to shout. Bewilderment came over his face as Talon threw a deadly rake of blades across his skin with enough force to dig into his scales. Only then did the Butcher of the Sands regain his composure enough to raise his huge blade, but it was too late. Katarina appeared right behind him and aimed her knife at his soft throat, slipping it in between his scales with ease. The great crocodile roared and collapsed to the ground in a pool of blood.

_Easy, _thought Katarina as she smirked down at the enormous corpse. The whole thing had taken nearly three seconds. _The beauty of double assassins._

Talon gave a light nod and disappeared back into the trees without another word. Katarina felt another surge of energy and quickly cleared the line of minions in front of her before porting back to her team's fountain. Perhaps this match wouldn't be so terrible.

* * *

><p>The rest of the fight went by in a haze of knives and blood for the vicious assassin. Despite her lack of sleep, her form had been impeccable this time, and her flawless blade work had scored her the most kills in the game. The match had drawn out far longer than was typical, and by the time her enemy's nexus had exploded and brought the ten champions back to the summoning platform, she was once again covered in gore, a wicked smile on her face.<p>

Her team mates and her enemies alike looked at her warily as they offered their praise, save Renekton, who glowered at her condescendingly. "I hope you're not thinking that you actually displayed skill in that game. My team played horribly," he growled.

Katarina cocked an eyebrow at him and gestured to the streaks of crimson that she wore. "Half this blood is yours, Scale Face."

Before the two of them could fall into yet another argument, Renekton's team mates dragged the belligerent crocodile off of the platform, all of them muttering a reluctant "good game" as they departed.

The dais now empty, Katarina felt free to release the energy she had channeled for the duration of the battle, and she nearly collapsed against the wall with a sigh of exhaustion.

"Tired?" asked a voice from close-by, and the assassin sprang into alertness once again, her eyes meeting those of the Frost Archer, who was looking at her with a slight smirk. Her cowl was down, allowing her long white hair to fall unhindered down her back. It also gave an unrestricted view of the refreshed dark stain on her left cheek. At the sight of the mark, Katarina felt her anger at being surprised (again) drain from her body, replaced with a vague yet powerful sense of disquiet. She decided not to mention it.

"Long match," she explained.

Ashe nodded. "I was watching, actually. You fought exceptionally well."

Katarina nodded absently. _Why is she speaking to me?_ she thought. "Thanks." She stepped off of the platform, taking care not to slip on any blood. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Ashe looking her up and down.

"Do you always leave a match looking like this?" she asked with a tone that sounded as if it were stuck between amused and wary.

The assassin nodded, glancing down at her ruined clothes. "It's the nature of how I fight," she explained with a hint of pride. "It's also usually a measure of how well I'm doing."

Ashe gave a small smile. "I can see that. I probably shouldn't keep you from your shower, but feel free to join me in the training room when you're done."

The invitation surprised Katarina, but she took care to hide the reaction. Her eyes turned to Ashe's, searching for any underlying motives. She remembered the enraged look on the archer's face from the previous night, a stark contrast to the friendly expression she now wore.

Still, there was a distinct hesitation in the Frost Archer, a certain guarded look to her eyes that Katarina found odd but certainly not hostile. "I might," she said, sounding non-committal. She watched as Ashe turned and walked back through the hallway, and her gaze was drawn to the archer's right foot.

_She's favoring it, _noticed Katarina. The limp was very slight, but the assassin was just able to detect it. She wondered where Ashe had gotten the injury, but the only answers that came into her mind involved a snarling barbarian king.

Banishing thoughts of Tryndamere, Katarina turned away from the retreating archer and passed down the opposite hallway to her own room, leaving a crimson trail behind her. Despite what Renekton had said to her, she still felt quite happy with the results from her match. _Maybe I should fight on no sleep more often, _she thought.

Her shower took longer than normal – another sign of a good battle. When she stepped out of the bathroom, she glanced around her room, unsure of what to do next. She thought of sleeping, but her exhaustion from the match had faded after her shower, and the idea of going to bed in the morning didn't seem terribly productive.

After deliberating, she decided on another training session. She dressed quickly and put all of her knives in careful order, then moved to open the door…

…and nearly walked right into Talon.

The sight of him startled her, but she refused to let her surprise show. "What are you doing here?" she barked.

He held up his hand, revealing a paper bag and sending a waft of hamburger in her direction. "Just a delivery."

"Are you kidding me?"

Talon shook his head. "General Swain's orders."

Katarina rolled her eyes and pulled the bag out of his hand. She watched him for a moment, waiting for him to leave, but he shook his head. "I'm supposed to watch you eat it."

She cocked an eyebrow at him, growing annoyed. This sounded exactly like something Swain would do, mostly to piss her off. "You never seem to eat," he'd always say to her, followed by a stern, "One of these days I'm going to start watching you just to make sure you're actually getting food."

"Come with me, then," she sighed, "I'm heading out to train."

He followed her like a shadow, clearly trying to be unobtrusive. She pulled the burger out of its bag as she walked and dug in. It tasted terrible, but she had to admit that she was hungry. "I take it Swain told of you of his plan," she said to the other assassin between bites.

Talon nodded but offered no other information. She debated asking him how he was fairing, but decided against it. Talon was exceptionally secretive by nature, and she found that she didn't really care, anyways. She took several more bites of her burger as she walked, then shoved the half-eaten sandwich back into the bag and then into Talon's hands.

"You're supposed to eat the whole thing," said Talon, his brow furrowing in concern.

Katarina put her hand on the door to the training room and turned to face him, annoyed. "You tell Swain that if he wants, he can order me to eat it himself."

"But –"

"Dismissed," she growled, shoving the door open. "That's an order." She slammed it behind her.

"Well, that's quite an entrance," Ashe remarked from behind her. Katarina turned to face the archer, a clever retort on her tongue. Her words died as soon as she saw her.

Instead of her typical outfit, Ashe was clad in a tight-fitting green tunic, her long hair tied back so as not to get in the way of her bow. A leather belt was cinched around her waist, embroidered with what looked like silver. Around her neck hung a thin golden chain, baring the crest of Frejlord on it. Her smile was warm and genuine, nearly enough to outshine the bruise on her cheek.

Katarina couldn't quite understand why the sight of the archer gave her pause, but when her eyes fell on the modest crown atop her head, she was reminded of her mission. Ashe was an important source of information, and she couldn't forget that.

She realized that the Frost Archer was expecting her to speak. "I suppose," she mumbled, averting her eyes.

Ashe must somehow have found her reaction humorous, and she chuckled softly to herself before turning back to the target. Katarina pulled her gaze away from the archer's form long enough to glance at the target on the wall opposite her. As she expected, the bulls-eye was a perfect circle of a dozen protruding arrows. Another joined them, sliding into the exact center of the target.

Katarina turned away from the other woman and took her stance in front of a distant target, pulling a knife from her belt and burying it into the red dot. She continued with her practice, her aim never faltering. From the corner of her eye, she occasionally watched Ashe making equally short work of her own target, covering its surface with a sheen of ice after just a few moments.

When she grew tired of hitting the same spot repeatedly, Katarina retrieved her knives and placed each back in its place. On a whim, she turned away from the targets and crossed the room to the training dummies, several of which were arranged in a circle. Taking up her position in the center of them, the assassin took great care to examine the precise location of all twelve figures. When she had calculated every necessary detail, she inhaled deeply, then spun on her heal and fell into the familiar yet complicated technique.

Blades slid out of their hiding places, into her hands, released again without the slightest pause. The Sinister Blade was a blur of motion as she executed the flawless Death Lotus. The move itself would look chaotic to the observer, yet each knife struck each dummy square in the face on the first rotation, then square in the chest on the second.

Katarina gracefully ended the spin, coming to a halt while facing the opposite direction she had started from. Her eyes met those of the Frost Archer, who nodded, impressed. She turned her gaze from Katarina to the protruding hilts embedded in each dummy. The assassin watched her with raised eyebrows, waiting for her to comment.

"This doesn't seem particularly challenging for you," she finally noted, a hint of amusement coloring her tone.

Katarina shrugged, surveying the results of her handy work. "It passes the time between the instances in which I can use it on people."

Something about her words seemed to strike Ashe in the wrong way, and the Frost Archer gave a tiny jerk and turned away from her gaze. _What was that? _Katarina wondered.

"You want to make it more interesting?" said Ashe, clearly eager to change the subject, and Katarina let her previous thought go, now curious.

"How so?"

"Well…" Ashe mused, moving to one of the knifed dummies, "it's got to be boring shooting at the same thing all the time." She pulled the blade out of the dummy's chest, running a finger down the edge. Katarina tensed instinctively as the Frost Archer examined the blade carefully, but she bit back the warning that she would otherwise have growled. The other woman talked as she observed, oblivious to the assassin's discomfort. "I know it's boring for me, at least." Her eyes met Katarina's again, then fell back to the knife in her hand, understanding on her face. Without a word, she slowly slid the edge back into the dummy.

Katarina relaxed, gathering the rest of her knives quickly. "I am _not _putting an apple on my head."

Ashe laughed at that, and Katarina noticed from the corner of her eye how her face seemed to light up when she did so. "Your loss. But I was thinking…you see those ropes, holding up the targets?"

The assassin paused, turning to face the wall. She noticed that each target was hanging by two notably thin ropes.

"Think you can slice through them from here?"

Katarina gave a smirk, her interest piqued. "Definitely. Better than you could with those arrows."

"Really now?"

The assassin nodded confidently, pulling a knife from the chest of one of the dummies and tossing it high into the air, catching it on her thumb without looking.

"A contest, then, to see who can drop their target first?"

Katarina raised her eyebrow at the suggestion, surprised by the offer. She had seen and heard enough of the Frejlord Queen to know that she disdained any and all behavior that could be considered frivolous. "Intriguing. Winner gets 50 gold."

Ashe shook her head. "I don't gamble," she said.

Katarina sighed, disappointed. There was the Ashe she knew. "Well, that's boring," she turned away from the archer and faced another training dummy.

"Fine," came the reply. "But I have a better idea. Loser has to kiss Kog'Maw."

Katarina turned back around and let out a chuckle. "You're serious?"

Ashe shrugged, giving a small smile. "Why not? I could use the challenge." Katarina shook her head in amusement. "What? Are you scared?" the archer teased.

"Just surprised," she insisted. "And interested. You're on."

Ashe smiled in triumph and stood in front of her own target. "You throw first."

The assassin smirked and turned her shoulder to the target, narrowing her eyes on the hanging ropes. She decided to aim for the right one first, and brought a knife to her ear. She inhaled deeply, then spun on her heel, releasing the blade at exactly the right moment. It sailed through the air and hit the wall, fraying nearly half of the rope in the process.

"Good one," said Ashe as she raised her bow and pulled the string taut. Katarina observed the fluidity with which she carried out the motion, and the rigid, disciplined stance she held as she aimed at the wall. One of her eyes fluttered shut, and she made a few minute adjustments to her aim. Her index finger curled over the icy tip of her arrowhead right before she released, also managing to fray her rope.

"Likewise." Katarina again squared her shoulders, aiming for the threads that still held firm on the right. Instead of a complete spin, she opted for a more controlled throw, and a perfect flick of her wrist sent the target falling, though it remained suspended by the rope on the left. She smiled in satisfaction.

Ashe drew her bow again, and as Katarina watched her excellent form, she thought back to her day in the hospital when the archer had excused her bruise by claiming a training accident. _You little liar, _she thought to herself.

Ashe released, succeeding in dropping her right rope as well. Katarina nodded and faced her target again, focusing all of her attention on the single remaining rope. The weight of the target was putting stress on it, and she figured that, with one clear shot, she could sever the whole thing. She took a deep breath, concentrating, trying to ignore the fact that Ashe was watching her intently as she measured up her target. Slowly, she let everything fall away, eyes focused like lasers on the thin line. She drew her hand back and released smoothly, her knife landing exactly where she had expected.

Katarina's jaw hung open as she stared at the target in front of her, and Ashe laughed quietly, either at the situation or at Katarina's face.

"How the hell…" muttered the assassin, staring at the few tiny, hair-length strings that remained of the nearly-cut rope and somehow managed to hold the target in place.

Ashe said nothing, her laughter escalating. Katarina looked at her with an annoyed expression, waiting for the archer to compose herself.

"Are you done?" she asked when the last chuckles died away.

Ashe just nodded, her smile still plastered onto her face.

"I win anyway," Katarina assured, "Unless your arrow can slice through the whole rope."

The Frost Archer just smirked at her, a sly glint shining in her eyes. "We'll see."

She pulled the bow back, taking as much time and care that Katarina had when lining up the shot. When she seemed sure of the target, she inhaled, then released the arrow with just a flick of her finger. Katarina watched its path, confident that it wouldn't hit.

Halfway down the lane, the arrow suddenly quadrupled in size, slamming into the rope above the target as well as the target itself, nearly obliterating both of them in a small explosion of ice crystals, and Katarina's jaw was on the floor again, along with what remained of the target.

"That is _so _cheating!" she exclaimed, her tone nearly that of a belligerent child. Ashe let out another peel of laughter in response. "No, that's cheating," repeated the assassin.

"It's not," countered Ashe through her laughter, "You never said I couldn't do that!" Katarina fixed her with a hard stare, but Ashe just grinned in response. "You're just upset that you have to kiss Kog'Maw." At that thought, Katarina winced, and Ashe's look changed from one of amusement to one of sympathy. "I'm sure it's not _that _bad…"

Katarina muttered something unintelligible under her breath, clenching her fists by her sides. She turned away from the targets and stalked off without a word. Ashe reached out for her as she passed. "Hey, wait!"

The assassin walked to the nearby dummies and threw a hard punch at one of them. It wobbled unsteadily. "Again. Hand-to-hand this time," she suggested, turning back to see Ashe's skeptical look. "What is it?"

The archer stared at her nervously, gripping her bow. "I can't fight hand-to-hand," she confessed.

The anger Katarina felt at being defeated gave way to surprise. "Not at all?" she asked, to which Ashe shook her head. "What happens when you don't have your bow?"

She shrugged, "I make sure that I always have it."

As the assassin marveled at that, her gaze fell to Ashe's leather belt, where a thin dagger hung. "Then what's that for?"

She looked down at her waist and shook her head. "Just for show, really. It's supposed to be back-up, but I haven't ever used it."

Katarina studied the other woman for a moment, thinking back to when she had seen her in battle. Ashe was certainly a formidable and capable opponent, able to fire several arrows at once in rapid succession, even at fairly close range. She was agile and deceptively strong, traits befitting an archer as well as an assassin. Before Katarina could actually think about what she was saying, words were already tumbling out of her mouth. "I could teach you."

The archer stared at her for a moment in surprise, her face a mask of discomfort. "I-I don't - "

"We could go slow," offered the assassin, half of her still unsure why the other half was talking, "starting just bare-handed. Then I could show you how to handle that blade."

Ashe fiddled absently with her bowstring, still looking uncomfortable. "I warn you," she finally said, "I'm completely new at this."

Katarina nodded and moved to the other side of the dummy, holding it in place. She gestured for Ashe to step forward. The archer carefully set down her bow and pulled the quiver of arrows off her back. She approached the dummy warily, as if it might bite her.

"Alright, now take your stance."

Ashe looked at her dubiously.

"Just…show me the best you've got."

The archer fell into a crude imitation of a fighting stance, both fists held up at awkward angles.

"Hmm. Okay," muttered Katarina, stepping back out from her place behind the dummy.

Ashe grimaced, "I warned you."

"It's a start." Katarina came right up behind her, examining her stance. "Put more weight on your right foot," she said, nodding as the archer complied. "Bend your knee a bit more…more than that…good. And move your left foot further back a bit." She moved her gaze higher. "Square your shoulders, and lower your right arm, this isn't a boxing ring. Can you at least throw a punch?"

"I think…"

Katarina's eyes fell to the archer's hands, and she shook her head, reaching out and laying a hand over Ashe's right fist.

_Cold, _she remarked again. Though she knew the Frost Archer had a lower-than-normal body temperature, she never seemed to remember it until she felt it for herself. Carefully, she pulled Ashe's thumb from under her fingers and curled it in front of her knuckles. "Promise you'll never hold your fists like that again."

"What's wrong with it?" she asked curiously.

"You're strong," replied Katarina, removing her hand from Ashe's and moving back behind the training dummy, "And if you hold your thumb in your fist, you could easily break it."

"Ouch."

"Exactly." She put her hands back on the dummy, holding it firmly in front of her. "Hold that stance. You're going to strike the center with your right fist, shifting your weight forward as you do. Remember to follow through."

Ashe stared at the dummy for a minute, eyes narrowing in determination. After a moment, she threw her right hand out, striking her target from the side. The resulting blow wasn't terribly impressive.

"Aim in the center. And you didn't shift your weight," corrected Katarina. "Get back into position and try again."

The archer fell back into her stance, making minor adjustments as the assassin corrected her posture. She threw another punch, landing in the center this time. The hit was better, but Katarina still shook her head.

"Don't punch with just your _fist_. Punch with your entire body. Focus all of your energy into your right hand, and follow through." Ashe sighed softly, then fell back into her stance, her determination renewed.

"Shoulders straight. Knee bent. Arm up, and –"

_BAM._

Her fist hit the exact center of the dummy with all of her strength, sending both it and Katarina staggering back a few feet. The assassin quickly regained her footing and held onto the dummy. She hadn't quite been expecting the hit, but she couldn't help but smile to herself at the results. She looked back at Ashe and saw the archer staring at her fist in surprise.

"I told you, you're strong," said the assassin with a smug look that faded as soon as her gaze fell onto Ashe's bruise. _And maybe you'll need this. _

The archer wasn't smiling, but she fell back into the stance and stared straight at Katarina. "Again."

They continued practicing that way until Ashe could land a good hit nearly every time. When she was satisfied, Katarina dropped the dummy and let the Frost Archer catch her breath. "You did well," she remarked.

"Thank you," Ashe breathed. "It's about time I learned." Her hand absently settled over her cheek, and Katarina looked away, pretending not to notice. After a moment, a blue light flickered on the edge of her vision, and she turned back to notice the glow of summoning surround the Frost Archer, who sighed and moved to retrieve her bow and quiver.

"Good luck," said Katarina automatically.

"Thanks," Ashe replied, "But don't think I've forgotten about our little bet."

The assassin winced again and opened her mouth to reply, but the words died on her lips as the Archer faded away in the blink of an eye.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Pay Up

Soon after her training session, Katarina headed back to her room, where her sister was once again waiting for her.

"Did you win?" she greeted at the door, and the assassin shot her an annoyed look.

"Why do you even wait for me?"

Cassiopeia shrugged. "Happened to be around. Why are you always so rude?"

Katarina ignored her and pushed open the door, barely resisting the urge to slam it behind her before her sister could follow. She crossed to her drawer and pulled out a small knife sharpener, flipping onto her bed and removing her knife belt. After examining each blade's edge, she selected one and ran it across the sharpener methodically. Her sister spoke through the entire process, but she tuned most of her words out.

"…and some interesting information from Heimerdinger…"

"Don't want to know," said Katarina absently, switching knives.

"Hmmph. Swain sure seemed to like it," she mused. "He made some sort of discovery about replicating matter."

"Mmm." Katarina examined a chip on one of the blade's edges with a frown. She didn't notice Cassiopeia as she crossed the room and approached her bedside table while glancing around at nothing in particular. If she had noticed, she might have taken more care to hide the icy arrow that currently sat in plain sight.

"…What's this?"

"Hmm?" Katarina looked up from her chipped knife and glanced at the arrow, now in her sister's outstretched hand.

"Wow, it's freezing…" she brought it closer to her face for examination, triggering something within Katarina, who bolted off of the bed instantly and ripped the missile from her sister's hand.

"_Don't touch that!_" she roared, her eyes flashing in anger as she shoved a perplexed Cassiopeia towards the door.

"That's…Ashe's?" she asked as understanding finally clicked, then gave way to more confusion. "Why on Earth do you have one of –"

"_Out!_" Katarina yelled, louder this time, unconsciously gripping the chipped knife in her hand.

Cassiopeia's expression was one of annoyance, but her eyes betrayed underlying fear. Although she liked to consider herself immune to her sister's frequent temper flares, a very angry Katarina could unsettle anyone, even those who were most experienced in dealing with her.

"You don't have to yell," she said evenly.

"Get the fuck out of my room, Cass," Katarina repeated, her voice dropping dangerously low, and her sister finally began moving towards the door.

"I will never understand you," she muttered under her breath as she departed, stopping in the doorway to glance over her shoulder, taking in the sight of the assassin, coiled like a spring, murder written all over her face. The serpent woman's eyes narrowed to slits, catching something in Katarina's expression that she couldn't name. The two sisters glared at each other, neither moving a muscle until Cassiopeia finally broke the stare and slithered out of the room wordlessly.

Upon her departure, Katarina let out the breath she had been holding and unclenched the fist that protectively clutched the still-cold arrow. The anger drained away immediately, replaced by discomfort. The intensity of her reaction unsettled her slightly, but she didn't let herself dwell too long on her sudden loss of temper. She wondered vaguely what sort of conclusions her sister would make and sighed, bringing the arrow closer to her face.

She hadn't examined it since she'd removed it from the tree, and she was mildly surprised to find that it hadn't melted at all since two days previously. The head of the arrow was still encased in a solid shell of frost crystals that seemed to radiate cold, and she found that if she held onto the frozen end for more than a few seconds, the chill became almost unbearable.

Curiously, she ran her left index finger briefly over the razor-sharp tip. To test it, she applied slight amount of pressure and let the point break the skin just enough to draw blood. Instantly, she regretted it.

"Shit!" she cursed as the enchantment on the arrow froze the blood in her veins, traveling up her finger and chilling the skin nearly up to the knuckle. She dropped the arrow in surprise and clutched her frostbitten digit, examining it closely.

Her skin was covered in a very delicate coating of ice crystals, and she had lost all feeling in the finger. She tried to bend the joint and found with no surprise that it wouldn't budge. After uttering several more swears under her breath, she shouldered open the bathroom door and submerged her finger under the hot water tap.

She felt nothing for several seconds, then sharp bolts of pain shot up her hand as the skin reacted to being frozen and thawed so quickly. She swore louder, but with a hint of relief as the feeling slowly returned. The skin was now deathly pale and still quite cold to the touch, but her joint was able to bend, though the movement was stiff.

With a sigh and a quick shake of her hand, Katarina returned to the foot of her bed and bent to pick up the fallen arrow that still gleamed in the light. After another moment of quiet observation, the assassin carefully tucked the missile into her drawer and locked it.

_Give it to Swain, _said a voice inside of her head. She stared at the lock for a long moment and nearly pulled the drawer open again before a sudden knock at the door quickly diverted her attention.

"I said _go away!_" she ripped the door open with the intent of yelling at her sister, but froze when she instead came face-to-face with the perplexed figure of the Frost Archer, who took several hasty steps away from the door.

Katarina stared at her for half a second, stunned. Her wits returned to her a moment later and she grabbed Ashe's shoulder.

"Hey!" yelped the other woman in surprise as Katarina pulled her into the room, then stuck her head outside the door to search for witnesses. "What the -"

"You shouldn't come to the Eastern wing," muttered Katarina, relieved when she could find no one in the vicinity. She shut the door quickly and turned back to Ashe, who still looked very confused.

"Why not?" she asked.

The assassin shot her a long, loaded look that did nothing to answer Ashe's question. The silence filled between them, nearly becoming awkward until Katarina finally muttered, "Noxians don't deal well with foreigners." Though she didn't intend the words to sound like a threat, they came out with a sinister edge that would have made most people think twice about being alone in a room with a famed Noxian assassin.

Ashe, however, was not most people, and she turned away from the grim-faced woman and instead fixed her gaze on the wall above the bed, where an enormous Noxian standard hung proudly. Her expression was impossible to distinguish.

"I can take care of myself, you know." The surety in her voice caught Katarina off-guard, and her mind was bombarded with a series of conflicting images. She saw Ashe in battle, gripping her taut bow with a certain deadly grace. She saw her in training, surrounded by targets that were coated in a deadly layer of ice. She saw her in the dark, collapsed on the ground and struggling to regain her breath. _I'm not so certain, _thought the assassin, but she kept the words to herself.

"Besides," Ashe continued, cutting into the lengthy silence, "I have faith in the League's protections. No one will attack me here."

Katarina wasn't sure, but she may have detected some hidden bitterness in the archer's tone. She shook her head and sat back on her bed, re-arranging the knives that still lay there. "That isn't my concern."

Ashe turned to her with a slight smirk on her face. She approached the bed and watched as Katarina organized her blades. "Afraid to be seen with me?" she asked softly.

The assassin shook her head absently, sliding each weapon back in place methodically.

"Why are you 'concerned?'"

Katarina felt unsettled, hearing the same question she'd silently been asking herself. "Why are you here?" she countered, slipping the last knife into place and turning back to the archer, taking care to keep her expression stoic.

Ashe's smirk morphed into a sly grin. "You owe me, remember?"

Katarina answered her question with a look of confusion before suddenly remembering the results of her unfortunate bet. "Fuck," she growled, slapping a hand to her face.

"Don't think you're backing out of this," said Ashe, taking hold of Katarina's hand and pulling it off of her face. The assassin jumped at the touch, startled by the severe temperature difference. Most of her hand was enveloped in the chill given off by Ashe's skin, but her frozen index finger felt warm on contact.

The Frost Archer seemed to notice the difference as well, and she kept hold of Katarina's hand, pulling it closer into the air between them, her face a mask first of surprise, then of realization. The Noxian tolerated the examination for a moment before embarrassment got the better of her, and she pulled her hand from Ashe's grip, unable to meet the other woman's eyes.

"How did you –"

"It's nothing," interrupted Katarina, turning towards the door. "Let's go get this over with," she said quickly to change the subject. After a moment of internal deliberation, Ashe seemed to let the matter slide.

Katarina opened her door and glanced down each end of the hallway, signaling Ashe to stay back as she did so, which caused the archer to roll her eyes.

"Is that really necessary?"

"Yes," replied Katarina when she judged the coast to be clear. "I told you, Noxians don't trust foreigners." She signaled Ashe to follow her out into the corridor.

"I see," said the archer, following Katarina. Despite her previous words, she did slip her cowl over her head as she walked. "And you?" The question came after a moment of not entirely comfortable silence.

The other woman frowned at her words, not liking the way they twisted her stomach into knots. She gave a sideways glance at the other woman beside her, noting that her bruise was starting to fade. Ashe met her gaze with a guarded expression, her bright blue eyes seeming to harden under Katarina's watch.

The Noxian forced a small smile. "Am I supposed to trust someone who comes to my door and drags me away to kiss voidlings?" she joked, hoping that Ashe wouldn't notice that had failed to answer the question.

The Frost Archer let out a soft chuckle but gave no reply. A moment later, the two of them left the East wing and entered the central corridor, giving Katarina a brief flicker of relief. When they reached the doors of the dining hall, Ashe turned to face her. "You aren't so bad, you know," she said softly, "for a Noxian."

The last comment gave Katarina pause, but she had no time to consider it properly. The doors had opened to the half-filled dining hall and Ashe was already crossing to a large counter stacked with piles of hamburger bags.

"Where are we going?" asked Katarina with a hint of dread as she caught up, glancing around at the nearby tables. It was common knowledge that Kog'Maw was banned from the main dining area.

"Getting some bait," answered Ashe, grabbing a bag off of the counter and turning back to the Noxian with a smile that faded the instant she had turned around. Her eyes fixed on something over Katarina's shoulder. The assassin followed her gaze, swearing under her breath when she locked eyes with Tryndamere.

"What the hell are you doing with my wife?" growled the barbarian in a low, dangerous voice, his furious look nearly pinning Katarina to the wall. The Noxian glared right back, but said nothing. Her silence seemed to infuriate him. "I asked you a question."

"Tryndamere," interjected Ashe, her tone filled with ice, "Control yourself."

The man directed his anger towards her, abandoning his low growl in favor of booming yell that turned several nearby heads. "Are you serious? You're telling _me_ to control myself? Do you even know anything about this bitch? Do you have any idea..."

As he ranted, Katarina gradually felt the surrounding dining hall slip away. She watched the barbarian's quick, angry gestures as well as the hulking blade at his back. She heard only the fury in his voice.

_Danger. _

Her mind filled with images of Ashe crumpled on the floor at his feet, face twisted in pain.

_Danger.  
><em>

Her senses grew more acute, the scene before her unfolding in slow motion. Her killer instincts activated.

_I'm going to kill him._ The thought was completely calm and seemed perfectly rational to the assassin at that moment. The image in her mind shifted, and suddenly she was back on the Fields of Justice, covered in gore, a wicked snarl on her face as she thrust her dagger straight through the man's heart while the last lingering flickers of rage died in his eyes. Katarina reached for her belt, felt the razor-sharp edge of the knife that hung there, pausing when she felt a cool hand enclose her own.

The dining hall came rushing back to her, adrenaline pounding as she stood frozen, staring at the barbarian over Ashe's shoulder. She realized that the archer had put herself between the two of them, her back to the assassin, where a distracted Tryndamere would fail to see the hand that clutched Katarina's tightly. The Noxian slowly returned to herself, grateful for Ashe's interference.

"I'll thank you not to intrude in my business," said the Frost Archer dismissively, cutting through whatever the barbarian had been saying. He stared at her heavily, hands balled into fists at his sides. Her gaze never faltered, silently daring him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, a soft blue glow surrounded him and his expression grew distant for just a moment. Katarina felt Ashe breathe a soft sigh of relief in front of her, but the cold hand did not loosen its grip.

Tryndamere returned to himself and swore loudly. "Don't think I'm done with you," he said to Katarina as he reached behind him, hand closing around the hilt of his blade. The gesture was meant to be a warning, and one that Katarina would typically respond to, but the Noxian stood in grim silence before Tryndamere's image flickered into nothing.

The moment he was gone, Ashe turned to Katarina, her eyes filled with something like worry, though she said nothing. Katarina let out a breath and nodded her head, gesturing to the paper bag in Ashe's hand to change the subject. "So, will that work?"

The archer's concern faded, and she pulled her hand from the Noxian's. Slowly, a hesitant smile formed on her face. "It's food, of course it will. Come on."

* * *

><p>"You're not really going to make me do this," groaned Katarina pleadingly.<p>

"Don't make bets you aren't willing to lose," replied Ashe with a smirk. She passed the paper bag in her hand to the assassin, who accepted it grudgingly. In the distance, an energetic Kog'Maw frolicked in a field, happily chasing a stray butterfly.

"I'm trying not to think about it too much, Katarina muttered as she observed the voidling pause long enough to vomit.

"Good plan. Now stop stalling and go," Ashe emphasized her words with a light push of Katarina's shoulders. The other woman sighed heavily and approached the creature, who took no notice of her and continued to mindlessly chase the butterfly.

"Kog!" she called when she got close enough, but the voidling paid no attention. "_Kog!_" Her voice was louder this time, but Kog'Maw continued to ignore her.

"Well, I tried," she said as she shrugged, turning around to leave the field. She stopped short when a crystal arrow passed a foot in front of her face, jumping back as if she had been struck by lightning. Her gaze followed the arrow, and she glared at Ashe, who stood concealed in the trees nearby. The archer made several gestures to the bag, causing Katarina to roll her eyes and turn around.

"_Food!_" she called loudly, and Kog'Maw froze mid-step. Slowly, his huge head turned and he fixed Katarina with a hungry stare.

"Foooood?" he gurgled happily, eyes narrowing on the paper sack that the assassin was holding prominently in the air. "Me. Want. _Meat!" _

With no other warning, the voidling surged forward, barreling towards Katarina with a speed she hadn't anticipated.

"Oh, shit," whispered the assassin, standing on her toes and holding the bag higher, out of reach as the creature narrowly avoided crashing into her like a truck. "Easy!" she yelled as he leapt into the air excitedly, his entire body wagging back and forth like an energetic puppy.

"Want _meat!_" he repeated, a trail of green slime dripping from his open mouth.

"Get down!" Katarina snapped at the creature, and after another minute of jumping, he finally stopped and sat down at her feet, eyes never leaving the paper bag.

"Give foooood!" he whined unhappily.

"You'll get your food. But first, you have to let me…kiss you." She forced out the last two words as she watched the growing puddle of goo with disgust.

Kog tilted his head sideways, confused. "Kissss?" he gurled.

"Yes. Just…sit there for a second and _don't move._"

"Then food?"

"Then food."

The voilding made a series of excited clicking noises and shook himself.

"_I said don't move!_"

Kog'Maw froze, suddenly as still as a statue. Taking great care to keep the bag aloft, Katarina leaned closer to his gaping mouth. His putrid breath, combined with the up-close view of his gurgling slime nearly made the woman gag.

_I am not kissing that. _

She shifted her body and planted a feather-light kiss on the top of his head. As she started to pull away, the voildling was seized by a sudden convulsion, and a particularly large wave of slime spewed all over the unfortunate assassin. From the trees, Katarina could hear the sound of Ashe erupting into laughter. She stood perfectly still, her mind trying to erase the last several seconds from her memory. Unfortunately, the sensations did not fade.

"Food now!" yelled Kog'Maw, and Katarina felt the paper bag slip from her fingers and fall to the ground beside her. The voiding shoved his face at it with great enthusiasm and began eating, not distinguishing between the bag and the hamburger inside.

Slowly, as if in a trance, Katarina turned around and began to walk away, leaving a trail of slime in her wake. After a moment, Ashe caught up with the assassin, her amused expression morphing into a mask of sympathy as she got closer. "Are you alright?"

Katarina didn't answer.

"…Katarina?"

She stared straight ahead and kept walking.

"Hello?"

She stopped short, and Ashe followed suit, looking at the other woman with concern as she scraped a handful of goo from the thick coat that surrounded her, holding it out between the two of them. Ashe stared at the offering, confused.

Suddenly, Katarina threw the ball of slime at her, hitting the archer square in the chest. Ashe gave a yelp of surprise at the impact, staring down at her slimed clothes. Both of them stood in silence for a moment before meeting each other's gazes. Katarina bore a sly smile, while Ashe expressed a look of mild terror.

"Payback," muttered the assassin, and Ashe bolted for the Institute. Katarina gave chase, dripping slime as she went. "Get back here!"

The two of them ran through the hallways, Katarina managing to stay on Ashe's heels while the two of them passed groups of Summoners who shot them baffled looks. They kept at that pace for several minutes until Ashe nearly ran headfirst into the bemused figure of General Swain.

When she stopped, Katarina came up behind her, smile fading in an instant as the general turned his hard gaze on her. "May I have a word, please?" he said, completely ignoring Ashe, who was staring at the floor with embarrassment.

"See you later," she muttered to Katarina, turning on her heel and walking back the way they had come. Despite herself, the assassin glanced over her shoulder long enough to watch her depart, noting that her limp was now slightly more pronounced. An uncomfortable feeling stirred inside of her at the sight, and she thought vaguely that perhaps she shouldn't have made the other woman run.

Swain cleared his throat, focusing her attention back to him. He seemed to exude rays of displeasure. "Having fun?"

"Carrying out my mission," she corrected while glowering at him challengingly, as if daring him to question her.

The general snorted in response. "This is completely unlike you –"

"Don't question my methods!" she snapped, her temper growing short.

The man leaned back on his cane and looked her figure up and down. "It's somehow difficult to take you seriously looking like that."

Katarina pushed past him. "Then move aside and let me clean up," she growled under her breath.

The General watched her with a scowl on his face. "Did you at least _learn_ anything while you were regressing to age four?"

Katarina paused without turning around. There was a beat of hesitation before she recited what she'd learned. "She can't fight close-range. She carries a dagger, but can't use it. And I wouldn't go anywhere near that huge arrow, but you probably already knew that." With those words, she disappeared around a corner, heading towards the direction of her room.

In some ways, she knew that Swain was right, and that she should maintain a professional demeanor as she was trained to. On the other hand, she was on a mission and would put on whatever face she had to in order to complete that mission, and Swain could go fuck himself.

Katarina thought back to the training session and how easy it was to be with Ashe. The Frost Archer sure wasn't nearly as much of a hard-ass as she seemed to be on the Fields of Justice. For whatever reason, Ashe seemed to have taken a rather unlikely shine to the Noxian. Katarina couldn't fathom why, but she didn't allow herself to contemplate the reason as long as she could gather information on her, which seemed to please Swain.

She still had no idea what he was planning, but she had a sense of the vast amounts of information he was gathering and assumed that his goal for now was simply to keep tabs on as many people as possible. She also knew that the meager amounts of intelligence she had provided probably paled in comparison to whatever Talon and Cassiopeia had uncovered.

Still, she had warned Swain that she would remain fairly passive at this stage, and the fact that she was involved at all seemed to please the general. She believed him when he promised that her talents would not go to waste.

Katarina was pulled out of her reverie a moment later when she heard another thought intrude on her own. The familiar whispered chant sounded through her head, proclaiming her summons, and a blue glow erupted across her skin.

She froze, glancing down at her ruined clothes. She had just enough time to groan and let out a long string of curse words before the magic took hold of her.

Back on the platform, three pairs of eyes stared at her. A fourth set belonged to Kog'Maw, who stood right beside her, wiggling with excitement.

The Noxian let out an uninhibited scream of frustration.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Torment

Katarina was quick to forget her unfortunate episode. Now with a newfound aversion to anything remotely related to the Void, she was perfectly content to never, ever discuss the events that had transpired thanks to a certain failed bet. Ever.

_Ever. _

As it turned out, the universe had decided to grant her a distraction.

In the days that followed, Katarina found herself caught in a flurry of activity as the Institute released a surprise announcement: a tournament was approaching the League, and quickly. Summoners and champions alike began to prepare. Immediately, grueling practice schedules had been enacted, and most members of the League became completely devoid of free time. The assassin was rather pleased about this development and threw herself into each battle with a fervor that proved infectious to her summoners, as she often felt the pull of summoning immediately after departing another match. As a result, she typically entered a practice battle while still coated in the gore that remained from the previous one.

On the morning of the first tournament battle, she woke from a deep sleep, called into awareness by the foreign thoughts echoing in her mind.

_Katarina Du Couteau, you have been selected to compete. Report to the Fields of Justice in one hour._

Her annoyance at being woken up was soon replaced with a grim satisfaction. Quickly, she arose, making the necessary preparations. She showered, dressed, and inspected her knives with a meticulous eye one final time before putting them all back into place. By the time she was ready, it was nearly time. She stood from her position on the bed and automatically turned to face the hanging crest.

"For the glory of Noxus," she murmured softly to herself before departing.

* * *

><p>When she arrived at the summoning platforms, she found herself in the middle of a confused crowd. All around her, summoners appeared to be talking animatedly about the upcoming tournament, but something seemed...off. Katarina could see no other champions nearby, and the disorder of the crowd baffled her. She quickly grabbed the first Noxian-allied summoner she came across.<p>

"What's going on?" she demanded of the youth, who stared at her with wide, terrified eyes.

"Uhhh…" he droned stupidly, quivering under her grip.

"I asked you a question, boy," the assassin restated with a sneer.

He shook himself for a moment before answering. "They're...doing something weird with the selections," he finally said.

"What sort of 'weird'?"

The boy shrugged nervously and Katarina released him with a frustrated shove.

"The selection process has just been changed," said a deep voice behind her. Ignoring the frightened boy, Katarina turned to face the man, who was dressed in a long, flowing cloak that distinguished him as a neutral-allied senior summoner, surrounded with an air of authority. "As was agreed upon by the two summoner teams, the selection process has been changed to blind mode."

Katarina stared at him in surprise, shaking her head. "Blind mode? For a tournament?"

The man's expression did not change. "It is unorthodox, but not unheard of. All involved summoners have agreed to the terms laid out. I am allowed to inform you that the teams are composed of Noxus-allied summoners versus Demacian-allied summoners." He paused for a moment, allowing that information to sink in. "I understand that you were one of the champions originally selected for the tournament draft. I should inform you that I cannot guarantee that you will be selected again."

"Fuck," growled Katarina.

"I apologize for the inconvenience," said the man while completely ignoring the assassin's behavior. "The changes were made very suddenly. We did think that, because this particular match was scheduled at such an early hour, we would run the draft in advance and inform you that way. We were perhaps overambitious."

"I'll say," she sighed in frustration, glancing around at the crowd of summoners. "At least tell me the battle will start soon."

He nodded, pulling his hood up over his head, a gesture that was almost dismissive. "Selection is imminent. You are free to go anywhere you wish. If you are needed, you will be summoned. If not, we will inform you." Without waiting for a response, the man melted back into the crowd as Katarina watched him with a look that almost betrayed disdain. Summoners always had a habit of ruining her fun. She didn't particularly feel like standing in a crowd, surrounded by them, so she turned and made her way to the Institute's front entrance to play the waiting game.

It was not a game she was good at.

After several minutes of pacing around the main corridor, the impatient assassin threw her head back and groaned. How long was this going to take? She wasn't in the mood for this sort of thing. She wanted to fight. No, she _needed _to fight. Her fingers were going to go crazy if they weren't gripping a knife soon. They twitched at her sides, begging for something to do, something to kill.

She paused her pacing suddenly, pulling out one of her blades. She had her back to the wall that sat proudly across from the Institute's main entrance. It was, she knew, emblazoned with several different crests and symbols from all across Valoran. She had seen it many times before. An idea surfaced in her head, and before she had the chance to think, she whirled around and released the blade from her fingers, turning quickly enough to make aiming an impossibility.

_Thwack. _

The weapon sank into the wall right behind her, buried nearly to the hilt. It shuddered softly with vibrations from the impact.

Slowly, she approached the mural, coming to a halt right in front of the protruding knife. She smirked in mild amusement when she noticed that it had landed right in the middle of a painted image of a skull that was covered in barbarian war paint. The smirk faded when she noticed its proximity to the Noxian crest.

_Why did I not notice that before?_

As she ripped the hilt out of the wall, she heard the words of her summons.

* * *

><p>The next instant found Katarina on the illuminated purple platform, staring down the line of turrets with a thrill of anticipation and relief. She would fight. The slight tremor in her fingertips stilled as she took a moment to take in her surroundings.<p>

The air in the Rift was thick, weighted with the anticipation of the battle to come. The overcast sky was threatening rain, and her team mates watched the looming clouds uneasily. She ignored the weather, knowing it would make no difference in her performance. She was instead distracted by the vague presence in her mind that was far more vast than simply the mind of her summoner. She could feel thousands of eyes all directed to the Rift, all pointed in her general direction.

Aware of this fact, she drew herself to her full height and exited the platform without a word to the other four champions on the fountain.

_Katarina Du Couteau. I have to speak with you. _The woman was startled by the sound of a soft yet distinct voice that rang clear in her head as she disappeared into the jungle. It took her several moments to realize that the source of the voice was her summoner. Katarina was well trained in the art of blocking her mind from them, but she now found her consciousness weakly linked with this particular summoner. She felt a flare of annoyance at having her consciousness invaded, particularly during such an important match.

_Stay out of my head, _she hissed. The Noxian was a proud veteran of the League, and she had assumed that her summoners would have figured out how she operated by now.

Evidently not.

_You have to listen to me, _came the voice, louder this time, but Katarina shook her head violently in response.

When the summoner refused to relinquish hold, the assassin let out a soft growl. _Are you stupid? I said get out!  
><em>

_Please-_ she began before Katarina cut off her thought.

_You asked for this, _she warned darkly.

With no other warning, she delved into the unprepared mind that melded with hers. Somewhere in the distance, she thought she may have heard a frightened scream, but that could have been her imagination.

The thoughts that filled her head were those of an apprentice summoner fresh out of Noxus. She was young, but auspicious, with an unwavering loyalty to the city-state she now served. Despite her inexperience, Katarina could feel her power, and her promise. Yet the assassin was surprised by one simple fact: the young woman had never before summoned her. This confused Katarina greatly, and despite the inarticulate protests hurled at her, she dug deeper into the stranger's mind until she became aware of a hidden desire to become head of the Noxian military.

The champion smirked at her summoner's foolishness as she loosened her grip. _You summon me in a tournament when you have never before trained in my style. _Her words were mocking and laced with disapproval.

To her surprise, the woman showed no uneasiness. If anything, she seemed more determined. _Will you listen, or not? _

Katarina scowled at the air in front of her as the announcer's voice echoed over the Rift, proclaiming the half-minute warning until the battle's start.

_Not, _she answered curtly, _and if you had bothered to practice with me before today, you would have understood that. _She began to close her mind to the now-flustered summoner, detaching the link that let them communicate easily. _Don't worry, I'll carry you, _she said as the connection faded.

_Swain is your opponent. _

The words were a faint whisper, a quick warning provided in the last possible instant before the silence resumed, just barely enough to register with the assassin, who reopened the link immediately.

_Say that again. _She must have misheard.

_You're against Swain,_ explained the woman with a hint of exasperation that Katarina probably would have punished, if she hadn't been so surprised. _The Demacians seek to unnerve you, _came the calmer reply. _They've selected your superior for this battle. _

It was not an unheard of strategy, but it was typically reserved for lower-level skirmishes rather than tournaments. When opposing city-states had battles, one side would sometimes choose prominent champions allied to the opposing side – a tactic that was looked down upon, but not strictly forbidden. It was a risky strategy and difficult to pull off, and the team that did it risked their chosen enemy turning on them. But Katarina thought of her general's steadfast determination, and she knew that he would not hesitate in the upcoming battle, even if it was against fellow Noxians.

After letting her initial surprise fade, Katarina gave herself a moment to consider Swain's strengths and weaknesses. He was probably the strongest mage she knew, and he would become very difficult to kill by the middle of the match. Still, he was far from an impossible opponent. He was slow due to his cane, and she was fairly certain that he wouldn't be able to break her concentration when she unleashed a Death Lotus.

_Your knives will prevent his birds from healing him, _thought Katarina's summoner, her excitement mounting as she spoke rapidly of strategy. _Also, they have a substitute in the bottom lane - _

Her words broke Katarina's focus, and the assassin bristled. _Get out, _she ordered.

_But I-_

_OUT. _

Katarina forced the apprentice out of her mind and quickly re-established her mental barriers.

"Pay attention!" snarled a voice from nearby, and she whirled around to face an impatient Warwick, who was crouched at the entrance to the ancient golem's camp. "You have a job to do, Sinister Blade."

With a glare, Katarina hurled her knife in his direction. The werewolf managed to duck just in time for the blade to lodge itself directly into the golem's chest. Warwick growled in warning, but didn't otherwise hesitate as he launched himself on top of the confused creature.

The assassin quickly moved to her lane, arriving at the base of her tower before Swain could make an appearance. A crowd of minions fought in the wide clearing that extended over the river. Her general still did not come, and the minions quickly began to look battered. After another moment, Katarina abandoned her position and rolled out onto the field to deliver killing blows to the enemy minion wave.

Right as her feet landed, a bright circle appeared on the ground around her, and before she could react, a pair of talons erupted from the dirt and closed tightly around her ankles. The assassin swore to herself, eyes scanning the fog of war for Swain. He emerged right as the talons released their grip, a dark smirk on his face. "Patience is a virtue, Sinister Blade."

Katarina felt a flare of annoyance as she hurled a knife at an injured minion to kill it. "Demacia seems to have taken a shine to you," she mocked as she continued to fight the crowd of blue minions around her.

"Don't think for an instant I'm going to go easy on you," Swain warned grimly, and Katarina took a deep breath and prepared for the battle.

Despite their bravado, both played quite passively, attacking only the opposing minions rather than each other. Katarina watched the man carefully, waiting for any wrong movement, and she felt him appraise her with the same regard. Her eyes carefully scanned his, anticipating a misstep.

There. He was a pace in front of his minions, just a few feet out of position. Reacting quickly to the realization, the assassin sunk a blade into his side, disappearing in a puff of purple smoke before the general could retaliate. She retreated to the edge of her minion line and stopped, eyes narrowing as she turned to look back at Swain. Somewhere within her mind, her instincts were activating. Something wasn't right.

One striking feature about General Swain was his eyes: twin pits of dull crimson that hinted at an internal vicious drive that seemed to contradict his aged stature. These were the eyes that countless soldiers had cowered before in terror, eyes that even Katarina herself had found unnerving on more than one occasion.

This happened to be one of those occasions. Instead of the usual faded red, Swain's eyes were burning so brightly that it was as if a fire had ignited inside of the general's skull, blazing brightly and broadcasting his fury to the world. The sight was unsettling to Katarina, who knew the man to be fully composed at all times, even when on the Fields of Justice. One strike from her knife should not bring about such a dramatic change in his features. His was a silent fury, marked with a certain subtly that was far more terrifying than overt rage.

This was an exception. As Katarina watched, the man trembled under some great unseen force, his expression frozen in a mask of fury. The perplexed assassin locked eyes with the man, unsure of what could possibly have caused such a reaction…

"Get. Out. Of. My. _HEAD!" _roared Swain, punctuating the last words with a furious squawk as his body exploded into a cloud of dark feathers. From somewhere far off, a terrified scream sounded, echoing over the tree line and masking the sounds of an entire flock of ravens taking flight.

In the midst of the erupting chaos, Katarina felt her instincts snap, and she saw her opening. In one fluid movement she was behind the enormous bird and spinning rapidly, releasing her hidden blades as she executed a flawless Death Lotus.

She could sense her blades digging into Swain's flesh as the man issued inhuman cries of pain, futilely attempting to shield himself with his large wings before they were torn into shreds. Around her, his ravens flew directly at her in desperate attempts to heal their master and break the assassin's concentration.

Although the ravens alone were unable to disrupt Katarina's Death Lotus, the huge crystal arrow that slammed into her body like a truck was. Her limbs froze instantly, holding her body at an unnatural posture as the General immediately took advantage of her incapacitation, flashing away from her in the blink of an eye and limping past his turret just as the last of the midnight black feathers fell from his nearly-spent body. He did not look back.

_So close, _thought Katarina darkly, swearing under her breath as the Rift's magic rapidly melted the layer of ice that had surrounded her at a much faster pace than was normal. Before she had even finished thawing, her eyes had found the source of the arrow, appraising her from the river bank with a guarded expression. The instant of confusion Katarina felt at the sight of the Freljordian faded in a haze of battle-thoughts. The Sinister Blade locked eyes with the Frost Archer as each made the necessary calculations in a split second.

Katarina knew that she could kill the woman, and Ashe had evidently arrived at the same conclusion as she melted back into the jungle instantly. Without a moment's hesitation, the assassin gave chase, following Ashe as she took off across the river.

The wild chase was short lived as the Noxian stepped into range of her Shunpo, appearing directly behind the Frost Archer not a moment later and using one hand to fling the other woman's bow to the ground with a snarl. The hand then clamped around her wrist, jerking her to a stop. In desperation, Ashe tried to break Katarina's grip with a strong punch aimed at the Noxian's chest. Her opponent absorbed the impact, nails digging into the cold flesh of the hand that she still restrained, the blade in her free hand moving in for a strike at the closest target: Ashe's stomach.

The archer's eyes widened as the knife met its mark with vicious force, covering both of them in a light spray of crimson. Ashe's fist faltered and dropped from the other woman's chest, her body trembling lightly with shock. Stomach wounds were particularly gruesome, whether or not they took place on the Fields of Justice. The cold, petrified face in front of her nearly made Katarina falter, but the assassin gathered her wits and recovered enough to send the blade home, extinguishing the light in Ashe's eyes.

"_An enemy has been slain!" _declared the announcer, and Katarina could feel the widespread approval from her vast audience. The feeling brought her out of the trance-like state she had been in with a jolt, and the face of the woman in her arms suddenly registered. Her expression was frozen into a mask of agony, her eyes wide and unseeing, cast skywards towards the glowing storm clouds. The slightest shiver passed down Katarina's spine as her arms went slack, releasing Ashe, who fell unceremoniously into the river, staining the water red.

The assassin couldn't bring herself to move, and she stood knee-deep in the gently flowing current, as well as her own confusion. Death, blood, suffering – none of these were new to her. Yet, in this moment -

_Get moving, _commanded the impatient voice inside of her head as her summoner managed to hedge her mental barriers again. _What are you waiting for? _

Even under the best of circumstances, a summoner speaking to Katarina in such a manner would be put in their place immediately. In her current state, the Sinister Blade was completely unwilling to tolerate the girl's insolence. The rage surfaced from deep within as she turned away from the fading body in the river.

She couldn't form words or coherent thoughts, so instead she flooded her summoner with a flurry of torturous images. Blood and fire passed before her mind's eye in a stream of gruesome snapshots.

She was in a shadowed chamber slicing into a man's skin…she was standing on a battlefield full of injured, dying men…she was laughing - cruel, uninhibited laughter, half-crazed as sprays of blood rained from the sky around her. Wild screaming sounded from the depths of her consciousness; screams of terror, of despair, of pain. She felt the summoner recoil in disgust, severing the link of her own accord.

"And stay out," muttered Katarina darkly to herself as she began to make her way out of the jungle, banishing the memories with ease.

Her mental barriers remained untouched for the rest of the match.

* * *

><p>By the time the battle ended, Katarina's limbs were thick with exhaustion. The fighting had extended well past the hour mark, and all of the champions involved appeared to be in need of a rest. Noxus had prevailed, though the struggle had been rough and incredibly close.<p>

The ten champions on the dais breathed half-hearted words of praise and congratulations as they recovered. Across from Katarina, Swain stood among his team looking more out of place than ever. Beside him on either side, Sona and Shyvanna were angled away, clearly attempting to hide their discomfort at his proximity. The man himself appeared the least affected by the battle that had just transpired; with the exception of a few stray feathers than clung to his clothes, he seemed utterly normal. The birdman who had exploded in rage on the Rift was gone.

"Excellent work, Katarina," he said with a nod in her direction. "You continue to make Noxus proud." She acknowledged him with an answering nod and watched as he stepped off of the champion platform and approached that of the summoners.

Curious, Katarina's eyes wandered over the five Noxian-allied summoners, falling on the one female among them. She was surprisingly small, yet she held herself with an air of confidence that was almost enough to make up for it.

Almost.

As she met Katarina's gaze, that confidence faltered, and her raven hair moved to cover half of her face as she lowered her eyes. The Sinister Blade smirked in mild amusement. What was her name? She might have found it when she delved into the girl's mind, but she couldn't remember now.

Her attention shifted to the opposite row of summoners, where a mild commotion was raised as Swain approached the four unsettled Demacians. The fifth was on the ground among them, shaking and muttering frantically under his breath. His eyes were wide and unseeing, and though he seemed to watch the general as he moved, his gaze was far away. His comrades hovered around him with concern, calling his name in an attempt to rouse him.

"Cal! You have to get up!" the boy kneeling next to him was gripping his fallen friend's robes, tugging in vain. The other three took an automatic step away from him as they watched Swain approach, but the boy had his back to the Noxian, oblivious.

"Let me speak to him," said Swain in a level voice. The kneeling summoner whirled around at the sound, face contorted in anger.

"_What did you do to Cal!"_ he demanded, hands curling into fists around his trembling friend's robes. Cal fell silent, eyes locked on the figure of the man who towered above him.

Swain shook off the question, holding Cal's horrified gaze. "You are never going to summon me again." It wasn't a request.

Cal made a soft, incoherent noise in response.

"And if you do, I will not be as kind to you as I have been today."

The noise morphed into senseless babble, growing louder and more frantic as the young summoner continued to stare at the perfectly composed figure of general Swain. Soon, he was screaming, his voice shooting up several octaves.

_"GET IT AWAY FROM ME!" _He cried the only words he could manage to form before degenerating into more senseless language. His friends quickly pulled him to his feet and dragged him off the platform, still screaming at the top of his lungs. Swain watched until he disappeared from view, turning to the five Noxian-allied summoners, who were watching him with wary expressions.

"Good work," he said simply. Satisfied, he began to depart, all eyes following him save Katarina's, who fixed again on the grim face of her summoner, searching for any signs that something was amiss. The girl's eyes appeared cold and disturbed, but she seemed composed enough. She did not meet Katarina's gaze.

The Sinister Blade felt a cold hand on her shoulder, and she turned to see Ashe beside her, face unreadable. The sight of the woman filled her with an unusual series of emotions that twisted her stomach into knots. The most obvious one was the powerful desire to attack, which she quickly brushed off. _Not on the Field anymore, _she reminded herself.

"You fought well," said Ashe simply.

Katarina nodded and muttered a word of thanks, calculating her opponent's face. The other woman's look seemed to be loaded, but she betrayed nothing. The cold hand left her shoulder and, with a forced smile, the archer left the platform.

Unable to look away, the Sinister Blade discreetly watched Ashe's slight limp, made worse by exhaustion. Still, she hid it well, managing to look regal as she stepped up to a group of summoners who stood in elaborate white-and-gold robes. The five of them observed their queen with reverence, and when she reached them, they lowered their hoods as they bowed in unison, revealing the fair hair and clear eyes that marked them as Freljordian. The youth in the center of their group arose, but the other four remained bent in respect.

He began to speak to Ashe animatedly, and even from a distance, Katarina could feel his excitement. She furrowed her brow as she continued to examine his stature. Something was off about him, but she couldn't quite determine what it was. With a nod to her other teammates, she departed the platform as well, walking in Ashe's direction discreetly.

As she drew closer to the man, her eyes focused first on his hair. It was a dirtier blonde than those of his companions, and far longer, tied back with a cord. His features, too, were less delicate, too pronounced. Even the way he stood was different – he was built powerfully, with broad shoulders and a solid stance that showcased his obvious physical strength.

All at once, Katarina realized that he was a barbarian. No, that wasn't right…not entirely. His hair was too light, and his eyes were very distinctly Freljordian. He was half-barbarian.

The Sinister Blade watched him with a critical eye as he continued to speak to Ashe, filling with a sense of disquiet as she glimpsed Tryndamere in the boy's features.

_Speak of the devil. _The barbarian king himself had appeared among the Freljordian crowd, and he pushed through the group of summoners to stand beside his wife. Though her back was to Katarina, she could see the woman stiffen as his hand came in contact with her shoulder.

Unconsciously, the Noxian ran a hand over the blade at her belt.

"Sinister Blade," said a voice behind her, pulling her from her observation. Katarina's hand fell from her belt and she faced Talon, attempting to keep her face neutral as he addressed her.

"Talon."

The man gave a nod of acknowledgement. "Swain has requested that you watch the next match with us."

She sighed. "I'm sure he did. I'll be right there. You're dismissed."

Silently, he departed, and Katarina turned back to the Freljordians. The summoners had departed, taking Tryndamere with them. Ashe stood by herself, still in her clothes from the last match, and the assassin quickly recognized that she was attempting to work through her exhaustion before the next battle, for surely she would be selected by the Freljordian team.

_Go talk to her, _Katarina commanded herself, trying to ignore the huge patch of crimson that stained the archer's tunic right around her stomach. Slowly, her feet began to move of their own accord, taking her closer to Ashe.

"Fighting again so soon?" she asked, causing the archer to look up from the bowstring she had been adjusting.

"I fight for my homeland now," she said softly, "not as a substitute for Demacia."

Despite herself, Katarina smiled, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms. "You'd better hope your opponents don't pick you first."

Ashe held her gaze with a look of disbelief. "Yes. I'm sure the summoners will be dying to grab their opponent's champions after what happened last game."

Katarina chuckled, surprised by the sarcasm. "You never know."

After a minute, Ashe returned her smile hesitantly. "I suppose not." She pulled the quiver of arrows from her back and began adjusting the leather straps. Katarina watched her in silence until her hands stilled suddenly. "About what happened with Swain…" she trailed off, unsure.

"You want to know what he did to that boy," filled in Katarina, "and I'm not the right person to ask."

Ashe snorted humorlessly. "Is anybody the right person to ask?"

The assassin considered that for a moment. "Probably not. I somehow doubt that the summoner would tell you, and Swain sure wouldn't."

Ashe absently pulled on her straps, not looking at the assassin. "I suppose what I really want to know is…why?"

Katarina raised her eyebrows at the question. She watched the archer in silence before her failure to respond caused the other woman to look up. They locked gazes for a few moments before Katarina broke the stare, her eyes falling again on the bloodstain that her knife had elicited. The look was brief, and she turned away before responding.

"I told you. Noxians don't deal well with foreigners."

Ashe chuckled unexpectedly.

"What's funny?" asked the assassin, bemused. When the other woman didn't answer, she pushed herself off of the wall and watched as Ashe shouldered her quiver.

"Wish me luck," she finally said, turning back to the platforms, where a number of champions were already gathering.

"Luck," Katarina echoed simply, watching the growing crowd. The match was officially a battle between Freljord and Bandle City, but all champions were required to be close by in the event that the involved summoners wished to employ substitutes. Katarina spotted Talon and Cassiopeia on the fringes, observing the proceedings with calculating eyes. She moved to join them.

"Keeping an eye on the competition?" asked Talon as she approached. Beside him, Cassiopeia stiffened and took a great deal of care not to look at her sister.

"Mind your own business," Katarina looked at both of them with a threatening expression. "Both of you." Cassiopeia made no indication that she had heard the warning.

_Why is she acting like this? _wondered Katarina. It was very unlike her sister to be anything but nosy, yet the two had hardly spoken in the past week or so. The change was odd, but the assassin welcomed a break from her sister, whose tendency to pry into the lives of others irritated her to no end.

Still, it was a curious disconnect from her usual manner. Katarina almost asked her right then, but stopped herself. Whatever it was, it could wait. She wasn't done enjoying the break quite yet. She felt especially pleased with her decision a moment later, when she overheard the half-serpent whispering something to Talon about Yordles that was punctuated with raised eyebrows and suggestive gestures.

The minutes passed slowly as the summoners prepared for the match. Finally, all were ready,and the sudden silence of the crowd pulled the assassin from her reverie. She casually observed the rather dull process of champion selection.

_Maybe they won't fuck it up this time, _she thought to herself.

Tristana was called first for Bandle City, and she rushed up to the platform with an excited grin. Ashe was then claimed for the Frejlordian side, and she gave the yordle gunner a friendly nod as she joined her. She had taken the time to change quickly, and her new tunic was now free of blood. Nunu was next in line, and he and Willump stood beside Ashe excitedly. Lulu gracefully floated up through the crowd to take her place, and Ziggs moved to stand beside her, brandishing a round bomb in his opponent's faces and cackling for good measure. Anivia and Volibear stood across from him, both managing to look dignified, despite the display that the Hexplosives Expert was putting on right in front of them. Amumu slumped beside him, eyes cast to the ground.

Suddenly, the yordle summoners fell quiet. Katarina watched with vague curiosity as the five of them leaned in closer, whispering to each other. Above them, the clock ticked.

"10 seconds," warned the voice of the announcer, and the group of yordles scattered, eagerly shoving the largest among them (who would perhaps reach Katarina's waist at his full height) to the front. He glanced at the pool of champions, nervousness written all over his face.

"5 seconds," said the announcer, and the crowd stared at the tiny figure in great confusion, waiting for him to speak.

"W-we select the barbarian T-Tryndamere for our final pick," he stammered, eliciting an audible gasp from the crowd, including Katarina.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Uncontainable

Katarina vehemently swore under her breath as her narrowed eyes followed the smug figure of Tryndamere. He took his place on the platform, dwarfing the crowd of yordles around him, who all stared at him uneasily. Their startled expressions provided the perfect contrast to the angered faces of the Frejlordians, who threw curses at the yordle summoners across from them.

Ashe, however, was the picture of serenity, as if nothing was amiss. After a moment, her team seemed to follow her example and settled down considerably, with the exception of the barbarian summoner, who fidgeted with anger and anxiety as he deliberated with himself.

"Interesting," came a voice from directly behind Katarina, who turned to face Swain as he observed the platforms. "And here I was, thinking that perhaps I had set an example."

The assassin ignored him, turning back to the selection. The barbarian summoner was conversing animatedly with his team as the timer counted down. Finally, he stepped away from the crowd with a frustrated sigh.

"We select the duelist Fiora for our final pick," he announced with a hint of annoyance as the Demacian passed through the crowd and took her place across from Tryndamere. Though the barbarian sneered at her rudely, Fiora made a point of ignoring him. She gave a slight bow to her teammates, who seemed relieved by the summoners' choice of substitute.

"How interesting," muttered Talon beside Katarina, his eyes taking in both teams as they prepared for summoning. Swain nodded in agreement, and the two began to discuss tactics and possible outcomes for the battle. Katarina moved away, unable to concentrate on their conversation. Her eyes were drawn to Ashe, who stood stone-faced on the platform, setting a noble example for the rest of her team, who quickly adopted her demeanor as the two summoner teams took their places and began to chant the words of summoning.

A blue glow immediately surrounded the each of the ten champions, and as they disappeared, a single, elderly summoner stepped forward in between the two now-empty platforms and began to mutter a complex incantation. Moments later, a bright orb appeared at the tips of his fingers, rapidly expanding to fill the vacated space. The edges shimmered and refocused until an image of Summoner's Rift appeared on the surface. As was common, a few members of the gathered crowd began to leave, but many more lingered, curious as to how the battle would play out.

The viewing orb first followed the Frejlordian team as they organized into their lanes. Katarina's eyes followed Ashe as she moved through her team's jungle, taking up a perch by the river to watch for enemies.

On the other side of the river, just beyond the archer's line of sight, Tristana did the same, but she appeared to be distracted by the barrel of her gun. She ran a hand over the canon, humming softly to herself as she did so. From across the river, Ashe silently pulled an arrow from her quiver and gripped her bow tightly, eyes scanning the enemy jungle.

"What is she doing?" asked Talon in confusion as the archer drew her bowstring. His surprise was echoed by the crowd, who rose in a confused murmur.

Carefully, Ashe aimed her bow in the general direction of the yordle gunner, who turned her back on the river at precisely that moment.

The arrow released.

A sickening thud echoed as the missile hit Tristana directly in the back, eliciting a small squeal of pained surprise from the girl, whose first reaction was to turn back in the direction of the river with quivering hands and terrified eyes.

The move was a mistake.

A second arrow followed the first, this one burying itself directly between Tristana's eyes. The force of the impact sent her flying backwards onto the ground, where she quickly scrambled for footing, but a third arrow sailed out of the tree and quickly stopped the girl in her tracks.

_ First Blood, _declared the announcer, and the crowd let out a roar of amazement.

Even Talon was staring at the viewing orb in disbelief. "How did she see her?"

As the audience watched, a tiny crystal hawk dove from a branch above Tristana's body, soaring directly to the outstretched hand of its master. It gave a dignified call of victory as it reached Ashe's fingers, disappearing into a burst of shimmering light. The archer's face betrayed the tiniest grin as she stepped down from her perch. The crowd erupted in shouts and applause.

"She is not to be underestimated," said Swain slowly, narrowing his eyes on the image as the minions began to spawn, beginning the true battle.

As the fighting wore on, Ashe and Nunu worked together flawlessly, denying the already discouraged gunner and her eccentric lane partner, who, despite her best efforts, could not seem to keep Tristana alive. By the battle's ten-minute mark, the ground between turrets was hardened by a sheen of ice as the Frejlordians continued to beat back their opponents.

Suddenly, the viewing orb shifted to the middle lane, where Anivia was skillfully holding off the Hexplosives Expert just as Volibear burst forward from the jungle with a furious roar. Before Ziggs had any time to react, he was thrown in the air, clamped in place by powerful jaws as Anivia froze him solid, ending him instantly. Without wasting any time, the Cryophoenix soared at the enemy turret, covering it with a blast of ice as Volibear ripped the structure from the earth with his enormous paws.

"Looks like I was right," said Swain, and Katarina turned to see the general carrying on a conversation with Talon, who was shaking his head.

"Volibear decided that one. If left alone, I assure you, it would have been different."

"What about top lane?" asked Katarina. The two men looked at her in surprise.

"Well, Fiora has that covered, of course," replied Talon.

Swain was already shaking his head. "I wouldn't be so certain."

Another shift in the orb's field of vision pulled them from their conversation and brought their eyes to the top lane, where Tryndamere and Fiora were fighting viciously, blade-to-blade. The match was quite interesting to watch, as Fiora's natural grace met Tryndamere's brute strength.

Her rapier moved with blinding speed, parrying a sweeping blow from the barbarian and landing a painful slash to his shoulder, quickly followed by a jab in his left side. By then, he had recovered, but she jumped just out of range before he could swing his hulking blade again.

"That huge sword is his downfall," remarked Talon. "Fiora moves too quickly."

"Just watch," muttered Swain.

The duelist returned her attention to the minions, though her eyes hardly left Tryndamere's form as she looked for an opportunity to attack. When he lifted his sword over his shoulder and brought it down across a wave of minions, she dove at him.

He had anticipated that. Right before his weapon dug into the offending line of minions, he changed its direction, sending the blade parallel along the ground, catching Fiora's ankle and knocking her out of the air. She gave a cry of pain as the heavy sword bit into her ankle, and the blow caused her to land awkwardly, staggering as Tryndamere rose his sword once again.

Fiora gathered her wits and deflected the blow with her rapier, causing it to glance off her sword arm. Despite the indirect hit, the sheer weight of the blade delivered a powerful enough strike, and the blunt force nearly knocked her off balance again.

She launched an immediate counter-attack, gouging Tryndamere across his exposed chest, and at the barbarian's roar of agony, it became obvious that both of them were fading. Fiora did not back down. Her rapier became a blur of movement as she took advantage of the man's limited ability to block her attacks, and just as Katarina was sure he would fall to her, he let out a ferocious battle cry and raised his blade, ignoring the hits that Fiora continued to land on his torn body.

The duelist's eyes widened in terror as she abandoned the assault, diving just to the right of his sword arm and barely missing the crippling blow that would surely have killed her. As she jumped, she threw out her sword, aiming straight for Tryndamere's chest. Her rapier tore through his heart, the blade's tip sticking straight out of his back.

The duelist grinned in triumph, but her victory was short lived.

Reacting quickly, the barbarian lifted his sword just off of the ground and pulled it in a single, vicious slash in front of him, cleaving the woman in half. As soon as she fell, he ripped the rapier from his chest just as the last flickers of rage died from his eyes. Breathing heavily, he gripped his sword tightly with one hand and began to teleport back to his fountain.

Talon cursed under his breath.

"Told you," said Swain.

Katarina continued to watch as the barbarian quickly restored to full health, still coated in blood from the previous fight. With no hesitation, he took off in the direction of the jungle.

"Where is he going?" asked the assassin, her eyes narrowing as he reached the river bank.

The orb switched views suddenly, just in time to observe Ashe take down the dragon in its sheltered pit at the river's edge.

Behind her, Tryndamere was approaching quickly, but she seemed oblivious as she took another step into the pit and began to teleport back to her team's fountain.

"Does he see her?" asked Talon, his eyes on the hunting barbarian, who was just approaching the entrance to the pit, hefting his blade over his shoulder.

A second passed in absolute stillness as the audience collectively held its breath, waiting.

At the last possible instant, the barbarian let out an enraged shout and spun his blade to close the distance between him and his wife, canceling Ashe's teleportation. The woman stared at him in shock, ducking to avoid his swinging blade, and firing an arrow as she righted herself. It dug into his chest, opposite his heart, covering him with ice crystals to slow his progression. The crowd burst into shouts and cheers, calling for blood. Katarina grinded her teeth together as the scene unfolded.

Ashe quickly scanned the area, looking for an escape, but Tryndamere was in front of the pit's only exit. She quickly dodged another wild strike, leading him to the side, her eyes locked onto the exit as she launched another arrow to meet the first. Her large, elegant bow clearly wasn't designed for close-range shots, but she seemed to be managing it despite the uncomfortable distance.

It wasn't enough. Tryndamere's next spinning slash brought him nearly on top of her, closing the meager distance she'd managed to create by slowing him. His blade cut across her back, staining her tunic crimson. His free hand closed tightly around her wrist to prevent her from drawing another arrow, causing her bow to slip from her hand. He twisted her arm at an unnatural angle, eliciting a sharp hiss of protest.

"Someone's been giving you too many kills," he whispered under his breath, a smile on his face. Anyone else would mistake his words for a harmless taunt, but Katarina saw the cruelty in his eyes as he regarded his prey.

Ashe kept her face impassive, taking a deep breath before suddenly wrenching her grip from her husband's hold and spinning around on her heel.

"Strong," remarked Swain with surprise, leaning forward onto his cane.

With her bow discarded and her back nearly up against the cliff wall, the archer's hand flew to her belt and drew the thin dagger that hung there, earning another murmur of surprise from the crowd.

"I thought she can't fight close-range," whispered the general.

Katarina shook her head, unable to look away from the orb. "She can't."

Tryndamere was staring at his wife with a perplexed expression, his eyes locked onto the tiny dagger. He shook his head and chuckled, hefting his blade onto his shoulder again.

Ashe was ready for him, and she quickly dodged the attack, desperately slashing her dagger at her husband's sword arm. Before the blow could land, Tryndamere's free hand closed around the knife, ripping it from Ashe's grip and tossing it aside. His next move had the archer pinned up against the wall by the flat of his blade.

For only an instant, Ashe's controlled face betrayed her rage and hatred as she stared up at the man who held her trapped against the cliff wall. Tryndamere only grinned, twisting his sword and using the weight of his body to drive it home, slicing the woman open from her left shoulder to her right hip as a spray of blood erupted between them.

Katarina was on her feet and out the door before the announcer had even declared the kill.

* * *

><p>In the stillness of her bedroom, Katarina counted the seconds as they ticked by, her eyes locked onto the knife-gouged ceiling as the last lingering rays of dusk slipped away. Part of her almost wished for her sister to knock at the door, for the pull of summoning; anything at all to distract her from her thoughts, to silence the periodic <em>thumps <em>of her blades as they bit into the worn ceiling.

She continued the mundane exercise long after the room had fallen dark, undeterred by the fact that she could no longer see the target directly above her head. Her arms were too accustomed to the motion to let the night stop them.

After a number of hours, her throwing arm finally fell slack, releasing the knife she had been poised to throw, and the assassin fell into a fitful sleep.

It felt like only a few moments later when she was woken up by a piercing screech.

Katarina bolted upright, immediately alert, gripping the knife she had previously dropped. Her heart pounded with adrenaline as she searched the darkness for an enemy.

Movement near the window caught her attention, and she watched a small, dark shadow that seemed to perch on the sill outside, concealed by a dark curtain. Blade ready, Katarina silently rose from the bed and pulled the curtain back.

Two beady red eyes stared at her unblinkingly. The raven's midnight black feathers shone brightly in the moonlight, lending it an almost ethereal quality that unsettled the assassin, despite the fact that she was very familiar with the bird. As the two observed each other, the raven let out another sharp squawk.

Katarina flinched at the noise and nearly threw her knife at the offending creature. "Get away!" she yelled in annoyance, shooing it with her hands.

The raven made no move to leave, and Katarina finally sighed in frustration. "Fine. Whatever. Tell him I'll be right there."

Satisfied, the bird spun around and took flight, disappearing into the darkness. Katarina pulled the curtain shut and quickly got dressed, cursing to herself as she did so. Leave it to Swain to wake her up at obscene hours of the night.

The corridor appeared to be completely devoid of life as the assassin silently slid out of her door and in the direction of Swain's quarters. She had nearly made it to his door when a set of footsteps sounded behind her, accompanied by a familiar voice.

"Sinister Blade. May I speak with you?"

Katarina found herself face-to-face with the Noxian summoner who had called on her during the tournament match. Despite the late hour, she did not appear to be tired at all, and she still wore her summoner robes.

"Go to bed," grunted Katarina dismissively.

"I've been training all day," blurted the girl, "and into the night. I'm just now leaving the Fields."

Katarina examined her closely for a moment, noting that her natural confidence was once again faltering under inspection.

"And why do I care?" she asked calmly, leaning up against the wall and folding her arms across her chest. "I do not concern myself in the affairs of summoners."

The girl watched her with badly-concealed nervousness, clearly unused to the emotion. "I wanted you to know that I'm practicing. And that I plan on summoning you in practice sessions before Noxus has another tournament match."

The hall filled with an awkward silence as the girl waited for a response.

"What's your name?"

The girl looked startled by the question. "Raina."

Katarina let the name sink in. It sounded soft, unassuming. She couldn't decide if it fit the small girl in front of her. "And you believe that you're cut out to lead the Noxian military?"

Raina's eyes widened. "You saw that?"

The Sinister Blade smirked, shaking her head in disapproval. "Learn to bar your mind if you don't wish it to be invaded."

The girl's cheeks were visibly heating. "Do you always treat summoners this way?"

Katarina shrugged off the question with ease. "No, I typically ignore them." Her tone was vaguely threatening. "And do _you_ always incessantly bother champions this way?"

Silence.

"I believe I told you to go to bed," dismissed Katarina, starting to turn her back on the summoner.

"Just you," came the reply.

"Hmm?"

Raina's voice was no longer laced with hesitation. She met her superior's gaze with a look of fierce determination. "I look up to you," she admitted. "I have for years now. That's part of the reason I decided to come to the Institute. To learn strategy. To serve Noxus. To meet you."

Despite Katarina's raised eyebrow, the girl continued. "I know, I don't look like much. I'm not cut out yet. But I'm learning. I wasn't born great…not like you."

A sudden pulse of anger flashed through the assassin's limbs, and her body went rigid at the words. _Not like you. _

_I wasn't born great. _

_The corridor fell away and Raina's face faded into oblivion. Katarina found herself in a dark room, surrounded on all sides by towering, shadowed figures. The sight of them sent a thrill of primal terror down her spine. The feeling intensified when her gaze fell to her bare feet, stained crimson with the growing pool of blood that spread from the body of the man who lay before her._

_"Katarina…"_

_Her father's voice was full of surprise, a fact that terrified her nearly as much as the mangled body on the floor. She could feel his hard gaze on her, but she could not bring herself to look up at him._

The blade slipped from her shaking hands and clattered to the ground, calling Katarina out of the vivid memory. Her eyes rose to meet Raina's. The girl grew silent as she noticed the look on the assassin's face. The two stood staring at each other for an uncomfortably long time.

"Is that what they tell you summoners?" she finally whispered, her voice low and dangerous. At the sound, Raina unconsciously took a step away. Katarina caught the movement, and something about the tiny betrayal of weakness pushed her over the edge. In a flash, she was right in front of the girl, her face inches from the horrified summoner, another blade poised in the air between them_. "Is it?"_ she demanded when the girl didn't reply.

"I…"

The blade shifted, inching closer to Raina's throat.

"You've made a serious mistake," she whispered. "You think you can win any influence here? As a faceless summoner?" Her free hand closed around Raina's wrist like an iron vice, causing her to flinch and close her eyes. "You can't even fight back. How do you expect to lead an army?"

The silence that followed was palpable. Katarina did not loosen her grip. Neither dared to breathe, until Raina once again surprised her.

"You underestimate the value of what I'm learning here." She opened her eyes slowly to meet Katarina's. "The strategies I've seen. The tactics I, myself, have developed. It takes a lot more than personal strength to lead."

The Sinister Blade was growing even more furious at the girl's insolence. It was an insult to hear such words from a summoner. An _apprentice summoner, _no less. "You stand on a stone platform every day," she growled. "You remove yourself from battle and _watch _while we kill for you. Do not think for an instant that your little _tactics _make you a leader." Slowly, she ran the very tip of the blade in a line across the hollow of Raina's throat, eliciting the shallowest of scratches.

"And you think the Fields are the worst you have to deal with?" she chuckled pitilessly. "You can't handle the realities of war. Imagine _living_ the images I showed you." The girl tensed in Katarina's grip as she leaned forward, her words so soft they came out as little more than breaths against the summoner's ear.

"_Strategy_ won't stop this blade from plunging into your flesh –"

A little ways down the hallway, a door opened, casting a rectangle of light across the floor and sending Katarina back to the wall, returned to her original position as if nothing was amiss. Beside her, Raina stared with wide eyes at the doorway, her body still, her mind distant.

Swain stepped out of his room and into the light, turning to face Katarina with a deep scowl on his face. "I do not like to be kept waiting, Sinister Blade."

Banishing the moments that had just transpired, the assassin managed a dark smile. "I was directing this summoner to her quarters. She appears to be lost," she turned to the wide-eyed girl beside her, "very lost."

Raina seemed to break out of her trance, her eyes locking onto Katarina's. Though she expected to see defeat, the assassin found herself staring at a mask of defiance, the small girl's expression betraying anger and, perhaps, even hatred. "I'm not done with you," said the summoner, slowly turning her back on Katarina, who watched the girl's departure with a stoic expression.

"Making more friends?" asked Swain, directing her attention back to him.

"No," she said simply, stepping around him and into his room without waiting for an invitation, which she knew would annoy him to no end. "Just…correcting an apprentice who sorely needed it." She glanced around at the walls of Swain's room, noting the fairly expensive décor. How the hell had he managed to get a room with paneled mahogany walls at the Institute?

"Hmm, strange. It didn't sound to me as though you got through to her. But please, sit." Swain motioned to a large leather couch that sat beside a crackling fireplace, one of the few sources of light in the naturally dim room. Katarina ignored him.

"Why am I here?" she demanded.

Her question was met with an indignant 'squawk,' and Swain softly stroked the agitated bird on his shoulder. "Hush, Beatrice." He crossed the room and eased himself into a large wingback chair beside the fire. "Always to the point."

"It's after midnight."

"Perceptive." His tone was mocking. "And were you actually sleeping?"

The assassin moved away from him, her eyes ghosting over the tapestry that nearly consumed the opposite wall. Besides the size, it matched the one in her room almost perfectly. "No," she lied.

"Then you have no reason to complain." Swain reached into the cabinet beside his chair, removing a large bottle of scotch and two small glasses. "Care for a drink?"

Silence.

"A snack, then? You never seem to eat…"

Katarina pulled her gaze from the huge crest and folded her arms across her chest, growing impatient. "Enough with the pleasantries."

She could have sworn that she detected a faint smile on the general's face as he poured himself a drink. "I'll be away from the Institute for a few days."

The assassin cocked an eyebrow. "During a tournament?" He said nothing, taking a slow sip from his glass. "Are you insane?"

"I've discussed it with the powers that be, and they have granted me leave."

Katarina scoffed. "And what sort of lies did you tell to get them to agree to that?"

From her perch, Beatrice picked up her head and gave an irritated screech. Swain seemed unaffected. "That's none of your concern. But I would like you to know that I plan on keeping in touch with you, with Beatrice's help."

"What's so important that you need to leave right now?"

The man fiddled with his drink for a moment, his gaze growing distant. "That's none of your concern, either." He lifted the glass to his lips again, draining the rest with one gulp. "I just need you to understand that you're going to be my point of contact with the League while I'm gone, and to follow any orders that I issue, without question." He immediately began to refill his glass. "Also, it's very important that you understand the need for secrecy. My absence is to be as concealed as possible, particularly among the other champions."

Katarina considered his cryptic requests, searching for ulterior motives. When she could think of nothing outright, she shifted her focus. "And why me?"

The glass of scotch was already empty. "I would trust no one else," he replied with confidence.

"Why not Talon?"

"You outrank Talon."

The assassin chuckled humorlessly. "You ask for subordination, efficiency, and secrecy. Yet you turn to me."

The general sighed, frowning into his empty glass before setting it back down. "You are perfectly capable of following orders, despite your bravado. And it's that bravado I'm relying on to cover up my departure. And, perhaps, to carry out my particular tasks."

Curiosity was getting the best of the assassin. "What are you planning?"

Swain looked at her for a moment with a searching expression. "I've said too much already. I assure you, this will make sense in a few days." He stood up, crossing the room to a delicate golden perch that stood in the corner of the room. After gently setting Beatrice on it, he spent a moment running his hands over her feathers. She gave soft noises of appreciation.

Katarina took his lack of attention as a dismissal, and went to leave. Her hand was on the doorknob when Swain's voice stopped her.

"I will, however, leave you with this. I chose you, Katarina, because, unlike Talon, you are a leader. Anyone can follow orders. I want someone who can adapt to whatever situations they may face, even in my absence."

"Despite his ability, I will confess that I have at times questioned Talon's intent." He looked up from his position, one hand still resting on Beatrice's head. "That's crucial for an assassin. Intent. You of all people would know the difference between pressing a blade to a man's throat, and stealing his dying breath with it."

The memories from the hallway threatened to overtake Katarina again, but she forced herself to pay attention.

"What has Talon fought for all his life?" continued Swain. "His own survival. But you? Your first blade was christened in blood to serve Noxus. And you did it all of your own intent. You are the greatest weapon at my disposal, when properly aimed. And I assure you," he said, his crimson gaze piercing into hers, "you _will _be aimed. Soon."

A deep shiver passed down the assassin's spine as the general turned away from her. The feeling, though difficult to identify, set her body rushing with adrenaline.

"I'll await your bird," she muttered as she departed.

* * *

><p>Sleeping was out of the question. Katarina always found it difficult to fall asleep after being woken up, even if the source of the disturbance was something mundane. Cursed with a sense of alertness that made her so well at her job, she passed right by her bedroom door without even slowing down. The halls lay cloaked in such dark stillness that even her light footfalls seemed to echo off the stone walls.<p>

She paid little mind to where she was going, crossing out of the Noxian corridor and into the main hall, her eyes tracing patterns across the glowing purple lights that dimly lit the Institute during its off-hours. The few she crossed paths with made no acknowledgement of her as the exhausted late-shift summoners moved wraith-like to their beds.

Swain's promise rang in her head, enticing words that called forth images of bloodshed.

It was different off the Fields.

Sure, it _felt _similar. Battle was battle, and death was death. Yet there was a distinct difference between temporarily ending someone on Summoner's Rift, swathed in resurrection magic, and ripping the final dying breath from the chest of an opponent.

As she walked, Katarina's eyes fell to her hands. How long had it been since they had truly taken a life? As she wondered idly, she caught sight of a small fleck of red staining her nail bed. She frowned and quickly cleaned the offending blood, not sparing a thought for possible sources. The sigh that escaped from her lips was involuntary, the result of her lingering agitation.

She hated this feeling, resisted it whenever she could, yet the fact remained: death in the League was only so satisfactory. As long as she stood within the Institute's walls, she could not fight without restriction. Of course, this fact wasn't entirely lost on the assassin, as the lack of true death allowed for greater risk and freedom in battle. Yet it also led to stupidity, and, ultimately, the knowledge that anyone she killed would not pay for their inferiority, but would rise again in moments, undeterred. It was maddening.

A shadowed figure at the end of the corridor caught her attention, bringing her thoughts to a halt. Despite the fact that the figure's back was turned, a shock of white peaked out from beneath the dark cowl and gleamed unnaturally bright in the moonlight, betraying the woman's identity.

Ashe was sitting on a lengthy sill before a crystal window, seemingly unaware of Katarina's presence. Her gaze was cast towards the north, on the towering mountains that rose from the horizon. The assassin found herself idly wondering what the other woman was thinking about.

Just as the thought surfaced, Ashe turned her head, eyes twinkling under the same moonlight that lit up her porcelain skin, a stark backdrop for the dim shadow that ringed her eye.

_That wasn't there before_, noted Katarina as the two regarded each other in silence. A moment passed before the Frost Archer lifted her hand and motioned for Katarina to come closer. The woman hesitated for just a moment before approaching the windowsill. Her eyes followed Ashe's outstretched hand as it rested on the cool glass. Slowly, her index finger extended towards the mountains.

"Do you see that pass?" she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.

Katarina looked out at a section of the range that was scored with cliffs that appeared precarious, even from the distance. "Over there?" she indicated the treacherous crags.

Ashe shook her head. "That's Dodkjole," she explained.

The assassin blinked. "What?"

"Dodkjole," Ashe repeated. "It means 'death chill.'"

"Pleasant."

"Generally, we don't go there," she clarified. "I was pointing to the left of that."

Beside the sinister terrain sat two enormous mountains, separated by a narrow valley. Katarina nodded in understanding.

"I live just beyond there," said Ashe with a hint of pride in her voice.

The towering glaciers looked anything but hospitable to the Noxian, but her eyes again focused on Ashe's face, this time discreetly. She caught the woman's brilliant smile, surprised. "And how do you keep from melting?" she asked casually.

The Frost Archer laughed – a long, tinkling sound that rang like bells. "I've mostly adjusted," she explained. "I do have a tendency to retain heat. Here," she took Katarina's hand in her own chilled grip, startling the other woman.

"What are you doing?" she asked quickly.

Ashe ignored the question. "Give me your other hand."

"Why?"

Without answering, the archer took Katarina's free hand, using both of them to cover her own. Slowly, the cold began to fade as the Noxian's body heat warmed them. After a minute, she could perceive no difference in temperature.

"You see?"

Katarina nodded, still holding Ashe's hand between her own. "How long will it stay like that?" she asked, curious.

"A few minutes, most likely, after you let go," she gave the Noxian a gentle smile.

Katarina felt her face heat, and she quickly released the other woman's hand, suddenly self-conscious and awkward.

"The Institute is alright, but I don't do well in climates that are much hotter than this," explained Ashe, flexing her warmed joints. "I wasn't always like way. Not as cold, that is. I was warmer as a child."

The assassin looked at her again, observing the vague fascination on Ashe's face as she examined her hand. "What changed?"

The archer made a fist and met the Noxian's eyes. "A lot of things," she whispered. "I also used to be blonde."

Katarina's gaze was drawn to the lock of pure white hair that stuck out from under her cowl, shining brighter than fallen snow. "I see."

Immediately, the woman's face hardened. She turned away from Katarina and lowered her hand, all at once standing like the dignified royal she so often was. "I apologize," she said quickly. "I should not speak of these things."

Curiosity burned inside of the assassin, yet she kept herself in check. There would perhaps be another time to learn of the Frost Archer's past. Tonight, however, she sought a distraction, since sleep had become impossible. And the way Ashe had suddenly reverted to her typical demeanor unsettled Katarina, though she could hardly say why.

Quickly, she changed the subject.

"Alright. What you _should _speak of is that dagger of yours," she indicated the knife, now back in its proper place.

Ashe's face maintained its passive expression as she glanced down at her belt. "What of it?"

Katarina shrugged. "I just thought you'd said that you haven't used it before."

The archer did not meet her gaze, clearly embarrassed. "I haven't."

"My offer still stands. I could teach you."

Ashe was already shaking her head. "I told you. It's just for show." She started to walk away.

"It doesn't have to be," said Katarina to her retreating figure. "I saw you today. Your first instinct when you lost the bow was to pull it."

The archer froze in her tracks, sighing heavily.

"It's not as though you don't have the ability," continued the assassin.

An uncomfortable silence filled the hallway as Katarina waited for a reply. Slowly, the Ashe's head turned back to her, giving an unobstructed view of the uneven purple ring near her eye.

"Why do you want to help me?" her voice was cold and flat, almost hostile. Her words conjured up an image of Tryndamere in Katarina's mind. No doubt his temper had gotten the better of him after the battle earlier that day.

Katarina shook off the mental image, shrugging again. "Why do you even want to talk to me?" she countered.

Ashe didn't respond, her gaze growing distant. Katarina waited for the woman to make up her mind.

"Alright," she finally whispered. "When can you teach me?"

The assassin smirked and closed the distance between them, taking hold of Ashe's wrist as she passed. "Right now."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Temperate Winds

The hallways were still devoid of life as Katarina led Ashe to the deserted training room and slipped inside, already beginning to stretch as she examined the rows of training dummies. Beside her, Ashe examined them as well, her expression far more reserved.

As Katarina moved to arrange the rows, she discreetly watched the Frost Archer out of the corner of her eye as she hesitantly set aside her bow with great care. Slowly, she pulled out the knife at her waist and started to look over the blade. The assassin paused to watch her for a moment before breaking the silence. "You can put that away."

Ashe paused her examination, looking up at Katarina with confusion.

"You aren't going to start with that," clarified the Noxian, crossing to the wall of training weapons and looking over the selection with a critical eye. "Actually, give it to me," she amended after a moment of thought.

A frosty hilt slipped into her grasp, and she took the time to appreciate the way the room's dim lighting sent soft prisms reflecting off of the ice-covered blade. The craftsmanship was detailed and very elegant, a stark contrast to the heavy, practical Noxian style she was used to. The frost enchantment gave it a surprising weight, and Katarina absently rolled the hilt in her fingers to get a feel for the weapon. She reached for a training knife of similar size, testing it in her other hand, comparing the two.

"Size, weight, metal, grip…" she listed absently as she gave the blade a few practice swings. "It's important to find a training blade as close to your actual weapon as possible."

Ashe nodded slowly as she watched the assassin. "Height, tautness, weight, composition," she muttered under her breath.

"Hmm?" Katarina looked at the other woman with confusion.

"Oh, it's the same with a bow, ideally," she explained. "Or do you think I started with Styrke?"

The Noxian cast a sideways glance at the elegant bow in the corner. The craftsmanship so expertly reflected that of the blade that Katarina still held, twinkling in the light. It was beautiful, and she almost said so, but stopped herself, returning to the task at hand. "Try this."

Cold fingers hesitantly closed around the hilt of the training weapon and took a few practice slashes at the air. The Noxian hid the gentle smirk that spread across her face at the sight of Ashe's inexperience. "Interesting form," she teased, setting Ashe's dagger aside and pulling the nearest training dummy out of formation. She set it right in front of herself while the archer ran a hand through her thick locks, embarrassed. Katarina pretended not to notice.

"Alright. Your targets," she began, removing a blade from the small set at her waist, "are as follows." She moved with lightning speed to showcase the right locations, naming them as she went. He first blade slid into the dummy's neck, sending puffs of sawdust into the air. "Throat."

She removed another blade and faded into a purple mist, teleporting directly behind her 'enemy' and burying the knife in between its shoulder blades. "Back."

A third blade slipped into her fingers as she faced the dummy again in the blink of an eye, hand closed around a hilt that was protruding from its chest. "Heart – a bit trickier, as you have to aim in-between your enemy's ribs, but even if you don't hit the heart, you can still get a lung."

Her hand lowered, darting in a blur of motion to impale the dummy's stomach. "Gut – these aren't fun to get. They kill, but slowly. Not the most practical hits on the Fields."

Immediately, she was behind the target again, lower to the ground. It was here that she finally paused, bringing her blinding pace to a screeching halt. She frowned as she stared at the dummy.

Ashe, who had been watching the lightning fast demonstration with unblinking eyes, shook her head once to clear it before questioning the assassin. "What's wrong?"

"Damn dummies don't have legs," she grumbled in response, rising from her crouched position with a slight huff.

Ashe chuckled softly.

"What?"

The archer shook her head. "You just look so…put off," she explained, a slight grin on her face as Katarina glared at her.

"Well, if the Institute can afford to put paneled mahogany walls in Swain's room, you'd think they could afford to give their dummies some _legs._"

Ashe quirked her brow at the statement. "Paneled mahogany walls?"

"Ridiculous, right?" said the assassin, moving to the line of unfortunately-legless dummies and motioning Ashe to follow her. "But we'll work with these. I was going to add the back of the knee as a potential target, if you ever happen to be on that level. It won't kill anyone, but they sure won't be going anywhere after that."

The archer nodded as she followed Katarina. "Right. That's usually where you aim when you want to detain someone without killing them."

The Noxian smirked at that. "Do you make a habit of shooting people's knees?"

"Do you make a habit of stabbing them?" countered Ashe.

The question lingered in Katarina's ears, and despite the archer's light-hearted tone, a memory surfaced.

* * *

><p><em>Katarina sat on the bank of the Serpentine River, her body alert and scanning the trees for any potential threats, despite her previous intention of resting. Though she doubted that the Demacians would be anywhere near the area, she knew they would be looking for their missing soldier. She had chosen the remote position for a reason, but she knew better than to let her guard down. <em>

_After several moments of intently listening to nothing but the natural sounds of the forest, she slowly arose, forcing all thoughts of fatigue from her mind. Though her military uniform was incredibly ill-suited for the climate, though she had not slept in 48 hours, though the deep gash at her left eye throbbed painfully as it attempted to heal, she held herself with dignity and purpose. _

_She was fully aware of the fact that she was being tested, and while she couldn't be sure exactly how much value would be placed on the words of the underlings she commanded, she would make a lasting impression on them either way. They didn't seem to share her philosophy, and the group of twelve soldiers around her was certainly anything but dignified. They lay in the marsh, exhausted, clearly suffering from the heat, uniforms torn and poorly patched. It didn't help that their food supplies were dwindling to almost nothing. _

_Yet still, they found the energy to lift their heads from the ground as she passed, and every gaze that met hers kindled sparks of fear and respect. She felt the attention drawn to her eye, and every time her men stared at the wound, she could hear the questions that died on their lips, silenced by the intensity of her gaze. _

_She knew full well that she was all they had – that exhausted, famished men so far from home would cling to authority like a desperate child to its mother. That instinct, deep and powerful, was the sole reason she had come to almost appreciate the meager amount of supplies she had been given. Her men were broken and starving, forced to such extreme lows that they followed her - the picture of Noxian strength – eagerly and without question, trusting, needing her to bring them home again. _

_As she approached the center of their hastily-constructed camp, the one other soldier who hadn't collapsed into the mud sat over an unconscious figure, keeping watch over the surroundings as Katarina had. At least, that was what he appeared to be doing, but as Katarina came closer to him, she noticed the distance in his eyes and quickly realized he was not present. It wasn't until she stood ten feet from the young man that he suddenly returned to himself, shooting up from the small rock he had sat on, his quivering hand saluting her respectfully. _

"_Keep better watch," she commanded, to which he nodded._

"_Yes, Sinister Blade." _

_Her attention was drawn to the unconscious figure, a soldier who was clearly from a contingent that had faired quite better than Katarina's own sorry excuse for a company. Despite his obvious low-ranking status, he appeared quite well fed, his Demacian uniform of a surprisingly high quality. Still, he was younger than she had anticipated. _

"_Why isn't he bound?" she asked sharply, observing as the young man stirred uneasily. _

_Her soldier ran a nervous hand through his dirty hair before shaking his head. "We have nothing to bind him with."_

"_What? Not even a simple rope?"_

_The man shook his head, indicating the meager pile of bags behind him. "We may have lost some supplies in the swamp. All we have left is a bit of bread and meat, some clean water, matches, and some extra knives. No rope." _

_Katarina resisted the intense urge to swear. She tried not to dwell too long on the reasoning behind the lack of adequate supplies as she moved to dig through the bags, hand closing around a pair of particularly large, sharp blades. An idea surfaced in her head, and she felt a slight shiver down her spine as the answer came to her._

_ She gripped the hilts tightly as she moved back to the Demacian prisoner who still had no idea that he'd been captured, held in some world far beyond reality by debilitating drugs. But even as she watched him, she could tell that the effects were wearing off. His movement became more frequent, and his eyes were starting to twitch hesitantly. She had to act fast. Her hands were trembling slightly, but she held them away from the eyes of her soldier. _

_ "Move him over there," she nodded to indicate a good-sized fallen tree. "Stomach flat against the wood. Quickly." _

_ Despite his exhaustion, the soldier obliged, carrying the man awkwardly and leaning him as instructed. Katarina approached the Demacian as he lay in his fitful rest, allowing herself a moment to observe him. That was a mistake. The sick feeling had returned to her gut. She hesitated, then hated herself for hesitating before lifting the knives. _

_ "This is a teachable moment," she said to the man who stood beside her, staring uneasily at the fallen tree. "When you run out of supplies, you make do with what you have. Hold down his hands." The soldier obeyed, holding the man's wrists in a tight grip. _

_ Carefully, she rested the tips of both blades against the back of the man's knees, inhaled once, then drove them through with a powerful thrust. The man's agonized scream rang through the clearing as Katarina met resistance, hitting tendons that prevented the blade from passing all the way through. The Demacian's eyes shot open and he began to thrash wildly, but Katarina's grip on the knives did not falter. _

_ The Noxian soldier flinched instinctively, his eyes wide with horror at the sight before him. In his expression, she saw the same hesitance that she had felt moments previously. His hold was slipping. Katarina spared only a moment to glare at him, pinning him in place with her cold gaze. Her hatred for the man's weakness fueled her, banishing her own thoughts._

_ "Hold him steady!" she ordered over the screaming, waiting for no response as she drove her weight against the blades until they bit into the wood of the tree below. _

* * *

><p>The echoes of the soldier's screams called Katarina out of her memory and back into the present, where Ashe stood looking at her with concern. "Are…you alright?" she asked gently, resting a steadying hand on the Noxian's shoulder, which Katarina shook off. The intensity of the memory had startled her. Where had that come from, and why? Part of her intensive training had been to block parts of her mind – memories, unwanted connections, etc. Coupled with Raina's recent invasion of her mental defenses, the unwanted flashbacks were unnerving to the assassin.<p>

"I'm fine," she lied. "And no, I can't say that I've stabbed any knees recently," she answered truthfully. The light mood between them had dissipated suddenly. "I kill efficiently now," she added without thinking.

Ashe stared at her intently, searching her face. Katarina turned away, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. _What is she looking for? _She wondered to herself, unsettled.

"Ignore the knees for now," she said, partly as a command to herself, partly as training instructions, and mostly to change the topic quickly. "But hit the other four. Oh, one more thing. You'll of course have to change these targets depending on your opponent. I've developed new tactics to deal with the more…unique enemies within the League. We'll only focus on humans. But even then, there is variance. Armor, fight style…which reminds me…"

She held up her right arm, giving it a single thump. "Sword arm. For some opponents, this will be essential." She tried (unsuccessfully) to not think of Tryndamere as she gave the instruction, but Ashe only nodded with understanding and determination, apparently willing to abandon her search.

Carefully, the archer gripped the training blade, facing her dummy.

"Pause," said Katarina, stepping in.

"That was fast," said Ashe with a smirk, glancing down at her hand as the Noxian carefully removed her fingers and curled each one properly around the hilt.

"Steady grip. Attack when ready. And put your whole body into it; damn training blades don't cut for shit."

After several minutes, the dummy was full of gouges and bleeding sawdust all over the floor. As Ashe dramatically struck her blade into the heart of the dummy, it finally collapsed into ribbons and fell in a disorganized pile to the floor.

"I think it's dead," she remarked.

Katarina nodded in satisfaction and kicked the dust on the floor, sending clouds of it into the air. Her gaze followed the shower of particles that swirled around, some of it landing onto Ashe's figure as she stood perfectly still, blade still in hand, her face concealed by the cowl that was pulled all the way over her head. Katarina frowned as she noticed this, and without a thought, she closed the distance between them and gently pulled the cowl down.

The movement startled the archer out of her thoughts, and she looked up at the Noxian with confusion.

An awkward pause filled the room as Katarina suddenly realized the strangeness of her action. "It will help you move better," she covered, giving a gentle tug on the cloak. After a moment of hesitation, Ashe nodded, untying the knot at her throat and carefully removing the garment, setting it aside on a nearby bench. When she turned back to the pile of sawdust on the floor, she let out a slight sigh.

"That was bad."

Katarina shook her head. "I wouldn't say _that._"

"Oh? What would you call it, then?"

The Noxian considered for a moment. "Have you ever heard of a cougar cub attacking a passing bug to learn how to pounce?"

Silence.

"You are not funny," said Ashe, adopting her rigid, formal tone.

"I'm actually hilarious," countered Katarina, "but not right now. What you did was actually important. You need to simply get a feel for the blade in your hand, how it moves, what it's capable of." As Katarina spoke, she moved to the wall of training weapons. "As I said, your first instinct when you lost your bow was to go for the dagger. That's excellent. Now what you need is comfort with it, in all manner of combat situations."

With that, she pulled a training sword from the wall and turned to face Ashe, who stared at the weapon in Katarina's hands with wide eyes before turning back to her dagger.

"I'm supposed to deflect that…with _this?_" she asked incredulously.

"Size is less important than skill," Katarina replied, "and before you complain about that, I promise to go stupidly easy on you."

The archer sighed in resignation and gripped her training knife properly, automatically falling into a stance that would allow for quick movement.

"Your primary target?" quizzed Katarina.

Ashe eyed the blade in her hand. "Sword arm."

The assassin pulled a long metal cuff from the wall, quickly securing it to her forearm while she nodded in satisfaction. "Your first goal is to disarm me. My blade is longer – use this to your advantage. Dodge my blows and counterattack. Be quick."

Without waiting for a response, the Noxian lunged, swinging her sword in a wide, obvious arc. Ashe dodged the strike easily but made no move to counter, watching Katarina carefully. The two women circled each other for a moment before the assassin closed the distance and aimed a slash at Ashe's shoulder. The archer ducked, narrowly avoiding the hit, and retreated again. After dodging several more blows, she clearly seemed to be getting into a good rhythm, though she had made no attempt to counterattack.

Katarina felt frustrated at the woman's lack of aggression as she continued to simply dodge the assassin's attacks. The two fought for another few minutes before the Noxian decided to break her rhythm, suddenly moving in with a sharp stab.

Ashe reacted with lightning reflexes, turning her body so that Katarina's sword pierced only the air in front of her. This put the archer at a perfect position to strike at the other woman's protected sword arm with her blade.

_Clang. _

The sound rang through the near-empty training room, and Katarina's arm trembled from the impact, but she recovered immediately and jumped away before the archer could attack again.

_She was waiting for that, _Katarina realized as she watched Ashe with a critical eye. That explained why she hadn't immediately counterattacked. She had been watching the Noxian's form and waiting for the right moment to strike.

It was fairly easy, given her inexperience with a blade, to assume that Ashe would be less capable in this fight. Though her movements with the blade itself were certainly heavy and awkward as she struggled to get a feel for the weapon in her hands, she still knew all too well the thrill of battle. Katarina had to remind herself that she was not a green soldier in training. She knew how it felt to kill. She had stared down countless enemies through her bow, watching their every movement, waiting for them to make a mistake that would allow for a killing shot.

Even as these thoughts occurred to her, she could feel ice blue eyes taking in every detail – Katarina's stance, grip, and movement. She was learning the Noxian's patterns, and learning them quickly.

Swain's words echoed through Katarina's head: _She is not to be underestimated._

Undeterred, the assassin fell back into her stance and decided to tighten her technique. "Good hit," she muttered. Ashe did not acknowledge the remark and kept her concentration, waiting for Katarina to begin attacking again.

The next round began the real challenge as the archer struggled to keep up with the faster pace, but the Noxian did not relent. She repeatedly landed "hits" on Ashe – halting her blade just before she could actually strike the woman, long enough to get the message across.

_If she were my soldier, she would be in a lot of pain, _thought the assassin darkly. She never spared an underling any training hits. After all, pain was excellent reinforcement. Yet Ashe was her equal in the League, and to use the same training philosophy that she used on fresh idiots who had never held a sword in their lives seemed inappropriate. At least, that was what she told herself as she kept count of how many times she dealt fake-killing blows. Ashe launched few counterattacks as she focused primarily on dodging, her calculating eyes taking in Katarina's tighter, more versatile movement.

Finally, as the assassin aimed a carefully-controlled slash at her opponent's neck, Ashe ducked, and, with one fluid movement, swung her dagger above her, knocking Katarina's arm out of the air and eliciting a scream of protest from the metal cuff. Before the Noxian could properly react, the knife had traveled the length of the cuff and met unprotected skin, slicing a shallow gash just above the woman's elbow.

Katarina raised her eyebrows in surprise, jumping backwards. She looked down at her sword arm and frowned slightly at the wound.

"I hit you, didn't I?" asked Ashe, lowering the dagger and looking at the woman with concern. "The knife…it sort of slid against the metal, I wasn't expecting it." As she spoke, Katarina watched the thin line of crimson surface, spreading across her skin. When she didn't respond, Ashe dropped the blade and approached her, reaching out a hand to grasp the metal cuff and inspect the slice.

"It's nothing," said Katarina quickly, cutting off the other woman's apology. "I can take a lot more than this. You just surprised me." As she spoke, Ashe began to remove the metal cuff. The Noxian resisted the urge to pull her arm away, uncomfortable. "I can fix it myself, you know."

The archer ignored her words, holding Katarina's arm still. With her free hand, she reached to a small leather pouch at her belt and pulled out a small handkerchief emblazoned with the Freljordian crest, gently pressing it to the wound. An involuntary shiver passed through Katarina at her touch.

"I carry first aid, everywhere," said the archer as she produced a bandage from the same pouch.

"It's a training hit," insisted Katarina, "I take them all the time." Still, she didn't resist as Ashe carefully wrapped the bandage around the cut.

"That doesn't mean you should just ignore them," replied the archer. As she finished with the bandage, her eyes rose to meet Katarina's, and she paused. The Noxian could feel her gaze directed to her left eye.

The gash that ran from her forehead to her cheek had, of course, long since healed, but the process had been slow. Most people who looked at the scar would correctly guess that she hadn't received treatment for the wound. As a result, the scar tissue was jagged and uneven, having healed awkwardly without the aid of stitches.

Katarina could feel the question on the woman's lips and turned away before she could ask it. "Thanks," she said simply.

There was a moment of silence before Ashe responded. "Of course. I'm sorry for hitting you."

"It wasn't a bad attack. Uncontrolled, but you managed to catch a weak point, which is the important part." The Noxian turned back to Ashe, but avoided her gaze. "In a real fight, that would have dangerously exposed your left side and I would have been able to use your momentum to knock you down -"

"But you were going easy on me," interjected Ashe.

Katarina shook her head. "No. I was attacking you without the intent of hurting you."

"…Isn't that the same thing?"

"It isn't." Katarina crossed to the bench where she'd left Ashe's dagger, taking the frosted hilt again and holding it in the air between them. "The most important thing you need to know about close combat is to always be aware of your intent." The knife glittered in the light as she turned the hilt, highlighting her words. "Why are you fighting, and what do you want the desired outcome to be? Do you want to distract your enemy? Wound them? Disarm them? Kill them?"

She paused for a moment to let the words sink in. "You need to be aware of these things. All of them, at once, while in the heat of battle. And as if that wasn't enough, you need to also be aware of yourself. If your intent is to kill, do you have the ability to do that?"

Ashe regarded the assassin with a hardened expression. "You say this as though I haven't killed before."

The Noxian shook her head. "It's different with a knife. You feel their last breath. You hear their last words. Their blood stains your feet, your hands, your clothes. It's much different than killing from a distance. It's quite intimate, to feel a dying soul so close to you, to have your enemy completely exposed, at his most vulnerable." Another involuntary shiver shook the base of her spine and her eyes slid shut as she continued. "If you go into battle with the intent to kill, you have to know that you can. Every soldier in Noxus learns this."

Ashe seemed to consider for a moment, leaning back against the wall. "But it's different here," she said.

Katarina nodded. "Killing on the Fields is quite different," she agreed.

The room filled with a comfortable silence while the two women rested, each lost in her own thoughts. It wasn't until several minutes passed that Ashe finally whispered, "You're different there. When you're on the Fields."

Her words filled the assassin with a powerful sense of discomfort. She sat in the silence for a moment, letting her mind fill with images of battle. It was true, in some ways. She became a different person when fighting. Yet the instincts were not something her body ever let her forget.

Still. It had changed in the League. The constant, bloody environment coupled with the bizarre realization that her kills were no longer permanent. Certainly, this knowledge had changed her intent. There was never any hesitation now, when aiming a knife at a champion's back. That had all changed.

She was grateful. The last thing an assassin needed was hesitation. The single, dull throb from the slash across her left eye felt almost like an agreement.

Before letting herself think any further, the Noxian moved to the wall of training weapons and replaced her sword, running her fingers along the wall. She could feel Ashe's gaze on her and knew that the archer was waiting for some sort of a response to her statement. She turned her attention to the nearby row of training bows that lined the wall beside the blades.

"And I imagine this feels even more different," she deflected, pulling a bow at random in an attempt to steer the conversation away from her.

Ashe stepped away from the wall and her hard expression seemed to fade. "Did you ever learn to shoot?"

Katarina examined the bow carefully, though she wasn't entirely sure what she was looking for. "A little," she explained, "back at the academy. I didn't take to it. It's been years."

The archer gave the other woman a hesitant smile. "Let me teach you something for once."

She approached the training wall and pulled down another bow, slightly larger than the one Katarina held. "This should suit you better, for now. It's larger and less taut," she explained. "It won't fight against you as much."

The Noxian took the bow from her hands and stared down the row of targets on the opposite wall while Ashe took a quiver of basic arrows to match. "Show me what they teach you in Noxian academies," she said with a gesture at the closest target.

Katarina thought back to her early training sessions and recalled one of the few times she'd been required to hold a bow. Carefully, she attempted to mimic the stance, pulling an arrow from the quiver and stringing it awkwardly before pulling it taut and facing her target.

"You're not holding it right," remarked Ashe, stepping up beside Katarina and putting her hand on the wood of the training bow, right above the Noxian's. She adjusted her grip to match that of the archer's, hyperaware of the other woman's proximity as she leaned close to stare down the arrow's path. "Aim higher," she said softly, close enough to send a fan of cool breath across Katarina's skin.

With her free hand, Ashe raised the assassin's elbow, still staring down the sight as she made the adjustments to Katarina's stance. The Noxian paid more attention to the archer than to the bow in her hand. Her expression was focused and calculating as she lined up the shot, eyes narrowing on the target in front of them. Katarina took all of it in – the gentle furrow in her brow, the purpose in her eyes…the ring of purple. The bowstring gave a groan in protest at being held taut for so long, and Katarina's fingers shook for a moment under the pressure as she carefully readjusted her hold.

Ashe stepped away, cutting through her thoughts.

"Release," she ordered.

The arrow sailed through the air, sliding into the target about a foot away from the center mark. The Noxian lowered the training bow, running a finger over the string to stop the vibrations.

"Not bad," Ashe remarked, again standing right beside Katarina, eyes focused on the arrow as she analyzed the shot. Katarina's eyes, however, were drawn back to Ashe.

Until that moment, she hadn't spent grand amounts of time contemplating the true extent of the other woman's situation. She had gone over the images in her head; had relived the night she had spied on the couple behind the bar, the small details such as the way he held her as though she would bolt at any minute, or the way her body tensed at even the slightest contact with him. She had on only a small number of occasions found herself idly wondering, _Why? _Why would such a woman put up with a man like Tryndamere? What possible reason did she have to remain quiet?

Katarina's knowledge of the human psyche had been quite carefully constructed throughout her training. She knew firsthand the behavior of dying men, desperate men, lost men, of anguished mothers torn from their families, of soldiers brought to the threshold of agony; of shamed, humiliated souls searching for redemption. None of these images offered any clearer understanding of the woman in front of her. In her experience, someone in a situation of consistent pain and abuse sought to escape by any means necessary. This was a fundamental human response, and one she had often relied on – without it, torture itself would be ineffective.

Of course, there were men who spent days bound to the cold tables and endured, dying miserably without uttering a word. Katarina herself had, in another era, been instructed to do exactly that if the need arose, and had never doubted her ability to do so. Yet, in such a situation, her death would serve to protect the glory and safety of Noxus – a cause she was very prepared to lay down her life for. Katarina remembered the burning anger, the _hatred _branded on Ashe's face that night behind the bar as she had watched Tryndamere depart without looking over his shoulder, as if she were nothing. People with rage that powerful _killed_. Yet the archer endured, silently. Despite the fury she felt, she not only remained by the man's side, but each day that passed saw her stand tall, proud, regal – the beautiful Queen before her subjects.

She was strong, commanding, and deadly.

_Why? _

A born leader, worthy of respect and admiration.

_Why does she stay?_

Without thinking about her actions, Katarina reached out a hand in the air between them, letting her fingers brush lightly over the crescent of purple skin around Ashe's eye. The feather light touch was gentler than anything she would have thought herself capable of as some deep, typically-ignored instinct told her to be careful of the sensitive area. The skin was warmer than she had anticipated, perhaps even as warm as her own fingers.

Ashe halted her examination immediately, suddenly going very still at the unexpected contact. Katarina heard her take a small, sharp breath, but she made no move to distance herself or to shake off the touch. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she sighed softly, releasing the tension from her body. Katarina continued to run her fingers over the mark, tracing the outline with extreme care.

A moment passed before Ashe's eyes slid open again, giving her the same searching look as before, though now she seemed…more hesitant, almost fearful. She looked as if she wanted to speak, but she had hardly opened her mouth before the sound of a door opening behind them cut through the stillness of the room.

The noise was all that was required to break the spell, and Katarina reacted as fast as possible, dissipating into the air and reappearing high above Ashe's head, perched among the wooden beams of the ceiling. The move was completed so quickly that Ashe herself took several seconds to register that the Noxian was no longer standing in front of her, and even after the door had fully opened, she was still staring at the spot were Katarina had stood.

"…What the fuck are you doing?"

Ashe's head shot up as the sound of Tryndamere's slurred words cut through her thoughts. The barbarian filled the doorframe, crossing his arms across his chest as he glared down at the training bow that had clattered to the floor. A moment of tense silence filled the room as Ashe attempted to compose herself. From Katarina's position on the ceiling, she couldn't see the woman's face.

"Stress relief," she finally said, bending down to pick up the training bow and moving to set it aside.

Tryndamere shook his head and followed her, stumbling a little, too close to her for Katarina's liking. The Noxian tensed, gripping the beam tighter, her body coiled like a spring.

"Do you have any idea…what time it is?" he said accusingly. As he moved closer, Katarina could detect the smell of alcohol.

"And how long have you been out?" Ashe asked, keeping her back to him and her tone as level as possible.

The anger on his face seemed to dissipate in a cloud of confusion. He stood stupidly for a moment before suddenly erupting into laughter – a heavy, booming sound that echoed off the walls. He was clearly unaware of his volume. "Celebrating the victory of Freljord!" he roared, his tone mocking as he thrust his fist in the air, a move that threatened to throw him off balance. "Killed those yordles good! Can't carry those scruffy fucks…" he paused for a moment to hiccup before continuing. "Showed you, too. Ha! Showed you good…had to show where I belong, caught in a shit team. So I cut the queen!"

His words fell away into another roar of laughter. Ashe stood rigid as she picked up and shouldered her bow, her face still hidden from Katarina.

"Did good for that one…you have to admit. Sure you felt it! Wouldn't be surprised…such a good cut, got to thinking…summoning magic be damned, I bet you got a line where it stitched you back up…"

His hand moved for the archer's tunic, and Katarina pulled out her knife. Ashe, however, reacted faster, her hand closing around the man's thick wrist. Despite the size difference, she seemed to hold him in place without issue.

"Get back to the room," she ordered, her voice low and threatening.

Tryndamere stared at her blankly for a moment before breaking out into a wide grin. "That a promise?"

"Go."

He seemed to deliberate for a moment before giving a sudden tug, ripping his arm from the woman's grip. The anger returned suddenly, and he stepped even closer, drawing himself to his full height as he stared down at her.

"I leave when I decide to," he growled. "And I'm taking you with me."

He grabbed her roughly and started moving for the door, but Ashe didn't offer any resistance. Her eyes moved to the ceiling and she met Katarina's gaze for just a moment before allowing herself to be led to the door. Her expression was stoic, betraying nothing as the door closed behind her.

The Noxian sat in the silent room for a moment before releasing a heavy sigh and dropping down to the floor with a gentle 'thud.' She stared at the door for an entire minute, debating whether or not to follow the two of them. The late hour and her lack of sleep were both beginning to catch up with her, and her limbs were starting to throb in protest. She absently ran a hand over the bandage on her arm and sat down on the bench, suppressing a growl of frustration.

_Why did I touch her like that? _she scolded herself, staring down at her hands. Gathering information from a source was one thing, but Katarina would be damned if she allowed herself to get too involved in the Freljordian Queen's personal life.

Still. The thought of Tryndamere pulling her from the room enraged her. It wasn't like her to let the behavior of others affect her. She was no longer affiliated with the barbarian since the end of the Pacification Campaign, nor had she ever had ties with Freljord. Her sole purpose was to gather information.

…She caught herself wondering what Ashe had been about to say to her before the door opened.

_Stop it, _she ordered herself, shooting up from the bench, startled by the clattering that sounded at her feet as she stood. Her eyes lowered to the frosted dagger on the ground.

"Fuck," she cursed, bending down to pick up the glittering knife. So much for not thinking about Ashe. Her anxiety only increased when she realized that the other woman wouldn't have the knife right now, while she was with Tryndamere.

_As if it would help, _she thought to herself, running her finger across the ice, careful not to let the blade pierce her skin. Ashe was far too controlled to actually stab the barbarian.

Still, that look of rage…

The Noxian slipped the dagger into her belt and left the training room without another thought, heading towards the northern corridor - Freljord territory, traditionally. As the hour had grown even later, she passed no one at all in the hallway. Still, her paranoia got the better of her, and she listened closely for any sounds of footsteps, stepping with extreme care to keep hers silent.

It wasn't until she was halfway down the corridor that she realized she didn't actually know which door belonged to the archer. She frowned as she examined each, but they all looked the same. But Ashe was royal, and would very likely have some sort of distinction…right?

At the end of hallway, Katarina stopped short in front of a large, ornate door the color of fresh snow. In the center, a golden flourishes were gilded onto the wood, etching designs Katarina recognized from Ashe's armor, as well as from the hilt of the frozen blade. She stared at the patterns for a moment.

_CRASH!_

The noise sounded from the other side of the door, setting off warning bells in the assassin's head. She could hear muffled yelling, but couldn't quite make out the words. Silently, she pressed her ear to the golden markings on the door and listened, catching fragments of the conversation.

"…never listen to anything…I swear if you call me that again…who was with you? _Who!_"

A loud "thump" sounded, effectively halting the discussion.

Silence.

After a full minute, Katarina raised her hand to the door and knocked.

"Who's there?" yelled Tryndamere from the other side, heavy footfalls sounding as he approached the door. The Noxian swore under her breath and let herself fade into a purple mist before he could open it.

The barbarian stepped out into the seemingly empty corridor a moment later, glancing around in confusion. Katarina stared down at the top of his head from her perch on top of the doorframe.

"It's too late for this shit," he slurred, turning back around and slamming the door behind him. The Noxian waited for his footsteps to fade into silence before dropping down from the ledge and turning back to the golden designs. She couldn't help the slow smirk that spread across her face as she knocked on the wood again.

"What the fuck!" the barbarian roared, ripping open the door to empty air again. "_Go away!_" he bellowed at nothing, slamming the door even harder.

Katarina waited another minute before dropping back to the floor and knocking again, softer this time.

A fill minute passed. The door slid open, just a fraction of an inch. A blue eye stared out at her as she wordlessly held up the frozen dagger.

The eye disappeared for a moment, but the door remained slightly ajar. Then it opened, just enough to let the archer's hand slip through and grasp the hilt. She hid her face carefully, though Katarina caught sight of what looked like a scratch on her cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered, pulling the door shut with a soft click.

The Noxian stared at the door for a long time, waiting to hear any more warning sounds. After a long period of silence, she finally slipped away into the darkness.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sooo, that subtle Skyrim reference. **

**I'm not sorry. **


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Deception

Katarina's body filled with the overwhelming sensation of death. This was certainly nothing new, though the space she occupied held a strange weightlessness, an ethereal quality that gave her ascending mind a moment of pause. Where was she? How had she gotten there? Surely, there had been a battle, but her recollection was fading…

She sat in contemplation as the feeling of death continued to spread through her being – for, by now, her body had already been left far behind. A familiar series of bright lights flashed before her eyes in a direction she could only vaguely distinguish as "up."

Somewhere in her instinctual memory, the assassin waited for the familiar jolt, for the pull of summoning to call her back to the body she had left behind, but it did not happen. Her being remained, a cold specter, observing the slow formation of the distorted lights in front of her. They were forming pictures, this she was certain, though she felt so removed from the emerging images, as if she stood an impossible distance away.

Yet still, the images held a vague familiarity…the longer Katarina watched, the more she began to recognize. The hulking stone steps of the Institute of War flickered before her, a ghostly image in dull coloring. She was at the League, but not on the Fields of Justice. Moreover, she still remained aware of her lack of corporeality.

She had little time to wonder where her body was before another figure began to form among the mists.

Details were difficult to distinguish at first, but Katarina detected a shock of white spread across the stone steps of the Institute. Confused, she attempted to get closer to the sight, but found herself at a loss as to how to move in the strange world. Quickly, however, her efforts proved to be pointless as the image came into focus and she realized who she was looking at.

Ashe lay still on the steps of the Institute, her body curled in on itself, her cowl pulled down low to conceal as much of her face as possible. On the stone surrounding her, tiny rivers of crimson met one another, a shocking contrast to the white of her hair that peaked out in disarray from under the cowl. From a distance, Katarina couldn't tell whether the woman was breathing or not.

She tried to open her mouth to call to her, but found herself voiceless as well. An eternity passed as she watched the Frost Archer, a feeling of helpless washing over her being as the woman lay completely still.

She had no idea how much time had passed before a booming voice rang out, unnaturally close, given her distance. Another figure began to form from the lights, rapidly approaching the steps where Ashe lay. As the image cleared, Tryndamere emerged from inside the doors of the Institute, coming to a halt at the top of the steps. Even from so far away, Katarina could see the look of disgust on his face as he stared down at his wife.

"Get up!" he yelled, his voice echoing through the strange, heavy air.

Ashe did not move.

The barbarian shook with anger and clambered down the steps, stopping on the one right above her unmoving figure. "I said _get up!_" he roared again, planting a hard kick in the center of Ashe's chest that shook her entire body and turned the air that surrounded Katarina into a red haze.

"GET UP!"

His voice rang repeatedly, as did his blows, as the assassin fought with all of her strength against the environment that held her in place, a faceless, bodiless spirit who could only observe the sight before her.

"Get up!"

"GET UP!"

_Get up. _

The command startled Katarina out of her deep sleep and back to reality, where she was lying alone on a familiar yet strikingly out of place stone platform. Baffled, the assassin took a few seconds to take in her surroundings, as clear and real as anything else. Her eyes landed on the tiny shopkeeper, who stared down at the Noxian with raised eyebrows.

Katarina realized several things at once. She had been dreaming. She was now in Summoner's Rift. She had somehow been summoned there in the middle of sleep, a feat which should have been impossible. There was a voice…not the shopkeeper's, not Tryndamere's. But who –

_Good morning, _said the voice again, echoing through her thoughts and sparking flashes of annoyance and disbelief in Katarina's mind. _Raina. _

_ What do you think you're doing? _She demanded of her summoner, who seemed taken aback by Katarina's animosity.

_Did I not tell you that I would be summoning you before the next tournament match? _

The assassin swore under her breath at the girl's foolish hope. _It's traditional to wait until a champion wakes up, _she thought rudely. _In fact, it's not only traditional, it's a requirement. How did you manage to get me here while I slept?_

Raina brushed off the question, ignoring it as if she hadn't heard. Katarina's suspicions quickly melted away, replaced by the sudden, powerful compulsion to purchase items from the shopkeeper. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable action until she realized that it had been Raina's silent command. Instantly, the anger returned as the assassin shook her head vigorously, severing the link between them.

"I'll kill you if you try that again," she growled to the open air. Her mind remained silent.

Slowly, the assassin let out a breath, expelling the lingering panic that shrouded her consciousness from the dream she'd just been pulled out of. She would not allow herself to contemplate the subject, not now.

After a moment, she began to head down the center lane, maintaining constant vigilance of her own thoughts. How could an apprentice summoner like Raina break through her memories with such quiet ease, or summon her even while even while she slept? Was she losing that much control over herself?

_And that dream…_

She banished the thought and forced her mind, with great effort, to the battle at hand. Clearly, this match was only for practice, but who would be waiting for her on the other side? She anticipated a one-on-one duel, but was it safe to assume even that, given what Raina was putting her through?

Katarina crouched beneath her turret, coiled like a spring as the announcer declared that the minions were on their way. She took hold of her training, letting the soothing effect of an upcoming battle calm her nerves. Whatever the circumstances were, she would fight to the best of her ability.

She watched as the minions passed her and charged into battle, fighting with the usual soulless brutality. She searched among the crowd, looking for the sight of another champion.

There. A flicker of gold appeared, the only signal Katarina was given before a pair of dark eyes locked with her own, causing her to stiffen. She had thought she was well out of sight. Suddenly, her brain caught up with her, and she realized who she was looking at with a certain sense of dread.

LeBlanc separated herself from the crowd of minions and began to strike down the stragglers with her staff, breaking eye contact with Katarina, who slid out from under the turret and rose to meet her opponent. She knew enough about LeBlanc's style to know that the fight was going to be difficult and quite painful.

Disregarding the minions for the time being, the assassin gripped her knives and moved around the outside of LeBlanc's range, watching as the other woman casually blasted minions with her staff. The Deceiver was an exceptionally powerful force, and would only grow stronger as time wore on. Katarina had felt the burns of her magic and hated them, hated her. The woman was practically untouchable, yet one single moment was all it took to reduce her opponent to dust.

Still, it would not be impossible to beat her. The woman was strong, difficult to catch, but very easily wounded. Once her spells wore out, she was useless. Assuming that Katarina could withstand the blinding pain of her magic, she would emerge on top.

As if on cue, LeBlanc's calculating eyes saw Katarina take one step too close, and a blinding yellow orb exploded in the assassin's face. Immediately, she threw a knife into the unbearable light, aiming for the afterimage of LeBlanc's figure that was burned on the inside of her eyelids.

When the light faded, Katarina saw LeBlanc several feet away from where she had stood, smirking at her, surrounded by a circle of bright light on the ground that quickly dissipated. She had teleported to dodge the poorly-thrown knife and seemed to laugh internally at the assassin's foolishness.

The pain that spread through Katarina's body was familiar, and yet agonizing. LeBlanc's magic worked in bizarre ways. Although her body registered the burning and the feeling of her flesh pulling away from her body…nothing looked amiss. Her skin was not marred by burns, nor was it torn. She looked just as she did when she had entered the Fields, and yet her body felt the physical torment of the woman's spells.

The Deceiver was a master at what she did – so much so that her opponents literally disintegrated, simply ceased to be, because of the overwhelming illusion of pain. Still, though Katarina knew the pain wasn't 'real,' her body could not disregard the intense sensation, and she grit her teeth as she staggered back, far out of range of the golden mage.

"Surprised to see me?" called LeBlanc with a sly grin, eyes trained on the assassin, who said nothing in response as the opposing minions continued to wage war on each other. Though Katarina's body still felt slightly groggy due to her rude awakening, she still watched the battle with calculating eyes. She knew she would have to strike soon – waiting until the mage had obtained more power was not a good idea.

Ignoring the lingering pain from the illusionary magic, Katarina removed another blade from her belt and hurled it at the crowd of opposing minions, watching as it bounced between their heads and finally buried into LeBlanc's left side. Acting quickly, the mage ripped the dagger from the wound, but the damage was done. The assassin followed up the attack by teleporting to her opponent's side, wincing as another painful ball of light erupted right in front of her. Though the light blinded her, she still felt the other woman to her left, and smirked in satisfaction when her blade again sank into flesh. From her close proximity, she was able to hear the woman gasp in pain before her form dissipated instantly. The light again faded and Katarina's eyes locked on to the mage, now several feet away and badly wounded.

"Feel that?" she taunted, "My brand of pain is actually real."

LeBlanc straightened, pulling away the hand that had involuntarily moved to clutch the dark stain the spread across her side. "Just because something is an illusion does not make it unreal, Sinister Blade."

As she spoke, her words seemed to dance across Katarina's skin, further inflaming the already agonizing sensations. The assassin felt her body give several rough tremors, but she resisted any other indication that she was in pain, including the overwhelming urge to inspect her body for damage. She already knew she'd find none.

Gritting her teeth, she again returned to the slow circles she'd been making around the Deceiver, searching for another weakness. Dark eyes watched every move she made; in their depths, the assassin saw the occasional shimmers of unnaturally bright gold. They unnerved Katarina to no end. She felt as if, beneath the flickering golden irises, the woman was seeing far more of her than simply her physical form. For several seconds, the mage held the assassin in her hypnotic gaze, offering only a haughty smile.

The attack was incredibly sudden.

Katarina hadn't even seen the eyes move closer to her, hadn't realized that she was once again in the line of fire until LeBlanc was instantly directly in front of her, casting her staff aside and raising her hands into the air. Illusionary chains burst from her fingertips like hungry serpents, twisting around Katarina before the assassin could react in time. More unnatural pain exploded across her skin on contact, and though she struggled fiercely, she was bound in place. Still, her gaze had never left LeBlanc's, who gave a gentle smirk as she raised her hand again to blast Katarina with another ball of light that would surely kill her.

The assassin inhaled sharply in the milliseconds she had, and felt the chains loosen just slightly. They fell away completely as she disintegrated into nothing and drove a long blade directly through the fragile woman's shoulder blades, sending the tip bursting out of her chest in a spray of blood.

Life instantly released its hold on the mage, and she fell uselessly to the ground. Katarina nearly fell down right beside her, but managed to maintain her dignity.

_Well done, _said Raina, her thoughts carrying a hint of surprise.

"Get me the fuck out of here," snarled Katarina in reply.

The summoner was unpleasantly surprised at the assassin's command. _I didn't believe you were a quitter-_

"_Now!_" she roared right before a hastily-cast summoning spell came upon her, effectively pulling Katarina from the match. She appeared on the familiar stone platform, the pain from LeBlanc's spells mercifully gone as the mage herself stood on the other side, a slight smirk in place. The lingering urge to kill faded, overshadowed by a burning anger as Katarina turned to face the summoner platform, her eyes narrowing on Raina.

The summoner had no time to prepare before the assassin was on her, one fist closed around the neck of her robes, lifting the small girl into the air effortlessly. She gasped and squirmed, trying to pry Katarina's hand from her throat, but her grip was stronger than iron.

"Stop fidgeting and listen to me," growled the assassin in warning before Raina fell limp in her grip like a subservient kitten in the jaws of its mother. "I don't know how on Earth you managed to summon me in my sleep, or why you insist on weaseling your way into my mind, but if you try anything like that again –"

"Du Couteau."

A stern voice interrupted the woman's tirade, and a summoner in flowing white robes approached her, face concealed beneath a hood. "Violence is strictly prohibited off the Fields of Justice. You know this." His tone made it sound as if he were scolding a disobedient child, which only served to anger the assassin. Her grip on Raina's robes did not loosen.

"Release her," commanded the man.

Katarina unclenched her fist, and the girl fell to the ground in a heap at her feet. The man shook his head but otherwise said nothing as he turned to leave. Slowly, Raina returned to her feet, and that was when Katarina realized that something was missing.

"Where's the other summoner?" she asked, looking around the large stone platform.

"You must have scared him off with your little temper tantrum," said LeBlanc from behind her. Katarina faced the mage, observing with some satisfaction the large patches of crimson that marred her golden cape.

Still, she was confused. It was true that she had been distracted by her rage after the match, but she couldn't recall seeing another summoner on the platform beside Raina. She directed her attention back to the girl, but she was already leaving, rubbing the hip that she had landed on when Katarina dropped her.

"Good luck in the tournament," said LeBlanc, footsteps echoing as she departed. "I expect you to bring glory to Noxus." Something about her tone struck Katarina, as if the woman was mocking her, but then, no one had ever accused the Deceiver of being sincere before. By the time the assassin had turned around to snap a retort, LeBlanc had already vanished.

Katarina shook her head vehemently to clear it, trying to block out her rather perplexing morning. She settled for a quick, violent curse of the young girl who'd once again disrupted her before heading back to her room, muttering the whole way.

* * *

><p>As soon as Katarina's door opened, a loud shriek sounded, startling her into alertness. A knife found its way into her outstretched fist before the door even had time to hit the wall. Another beat passed before Katarina registered the source of the sound as a familiar black raven perched on the windowsill, staring at her with distrust. The assassin scoffed and lowered her knife, glaring at the bird.<p>

"Good fucking morning," she grumbled to herself.

Once the two had spent a moment establishing their mutual dislike for each other, Beatrice gave another loud squawk, holding out her left leg to punctuate the unfortunate noise. Katarina's eyes fell to the small piece of paper encircling the raven's ankle.

Sighing, she crossed to the window, hands outstretched to take the paper. As she did so, the raven leaned away from her, wearing an expression that was as close to disgust as a bird could get. "I'm not so thrilled about this either," growled the assassin as she held the animal steady long enough to detach the tiny scroll. The moment she was free, Beatrice yanked her foot away and gave an ungodly screech, firing herself out of the window at blinding speed. Katarina took a step back at the bird's frantic flapping, watching her depart with mild amusement. Hopefully Swain was not expecting a reply.

Her attention shifted to the tiny paper in her hands. It seemed too small to be anything too official. Curiously, she unrolled the tiny scroll and read, in perfectly elegant letters:

_Eat something._

"Fuck you, Swain."

Katarina tore the paper in half, then in half again, scattering the pieces outside of her window before she pulled it shut with a loud 'slam' that left the walls vibrating. She was so full of spite that she failed to acknowledge the hunger that gnawed in her stomach. Doing so would only mean that the general had been right.

She fell back onto the bed with a frustrated sigh, pulling off her belt of knives. Slowly, she began the long process of examining and sharpening each one. As she worked, her thoughts wandered back to the note.

Swain's attempts at being fatherly always served to piss her off. He knew it, though he continued to taunt her with little requests or off-hand concerns as to her well-being. Though it was true that the man had watched her grow up, she couldn't help but feel some resentment about his attitude towards her – an attitude that had only gotten stronger since the disappearance of her father. There had been moments between them, heated fights and Katarina's repeated assurances that Swain could never replace Marcus Du Couteau. Still, nothing she said ever seemed to faze the man.

By the time Katarina had finished sharpening each one of her knives, enough time had passed that she felt justified in getting food without feeling as though she was following Swain's order. She slid her knives back into place and left the room, heading for the dining hall.

On the way, she passed Talon, who fell into step beside her.

"Sinister Blade," he acknowledged respectfully with a slight nod of his head.

"Talon," she replied simply.

"I need to speak with General Swain. Have you seen him?"

His words nearly made her stop short, but she hid her surprise well. Swain had certainly highlighted the need for secrecy quite explicitly when he'd told her about his departure, but she hadn't anticipated the true depth of that secrecy. Even Talon was unaware? Was she supposed to tell him? She deliberated for a moment before deciding against it – if Talon was meant to know, he would already have known.

"Locked in his room. He hasn't come out in awhile and I doubt he will any time soon," she lied easily. "But you're welcome to report to me."

The man seemed to consider her words as he continued to follow her into the dining hall. Katarina figured he wasn't very likely to say anything to her, but after a minute, he surprised her with a low whisper. "Do you have any idea what he's planning?"

The assassin shook her head in response as she gathered her food.

"I have a feeling we won't be in the League much longer," he continued, turning his attention away from her as he took in the crowd. From the corner of her eye, Katarina followed his gaze, observing a few of the groups that sat at the tables: a crowd of Demacian summoners, a few of the Ionian champions, a large collection of Yordles chattering excitedly. Talon's face remained neutral as he made his own observations, but Katarina could sense his disdain. "And what a welcome change that will be," he muttered under his breath.

Katarina quirked a brow at his response. _How unlike him to reveal his thoughts. _

Talon met her gaze. "Do you not feel the same?"

"Explain," she demanded.

He smirked, following her as she brought her food to a nearby table. "Don't tell me you haven't felt as I do," he threw another sweeping glance at the room around them. "Our talents are wasted here."

Katarina considered his words. "There isn't a lot of room for trained assassins in peacetime," she said. "This is one of the few that remains."

"I imagine your father would disagree," came the calm reply, and Katarina froze, fixing him with a hardened stare that he returned. "Swain questions my loyalty," said Talon. It was not a question.

"Does that surprise you?"

He shook his head. "I believe I've made my position quite clear. I came to the League in search of General Du Couteau."

The tension between the two thickened as Katarina's eyes narrowed. "Yet you follow Swain."

"As do you."

Anger flared within the woman, but she kept her voice low. "_My _loyalty is not in question. I serve Noxus, as did my father."

"As do I."

"When it suits your needs," corrected Katarina.

The man leaned back in his chair as he spoke. "And why should my motivation be of concern, when the end result is the same? Here I am, one of Noxus' faithful servants, regardless."

_No wonder Swain didn't choose him, _Katarina thought to herself. Out loud, she said, "You are a trained killer. Your motivation is everything. I'm certain my father would have taught you that lesson."

"And what motivates you, Sinister Blade?" he asked, leaning forward once again and causing the woman to glower in annoyance.

"I told you. I serve Noxus."

Talon gave a gentle smirk before echoing her previous remark. "Yet you follow Swain."

Losing the rest of her patience, Katarina threw her hands on the table and leaned dangerously close to the other assassin. "I follow _Noxus. _And you of all people should think twice before criticizing your superior, especially when you yourself have a history of whimpering like a pup at your master's feet."

"Is that what I am to you?" he asked. "Your father's attack dog?"

Katarina let her silence answer the question for her.

Talon shifted in his chair, evidently uncomfortable by the woman's proximity. "I always considered _you_ to be more than that. You're his daughter in so many ways, you know."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" she questioned, eyes narrowing to murderous slits.

"Whatever you want it to mean," Talon replied, standing up from his chair and giving a slight nod of acknowledgement to his superior. "But do know this, Sinister Blade: despite your ranking, I have watched you carefully."

"Remember your place, Talon," Katarina growled in warning. "I don't need your eyes on me."

"I say so little to you that I thought, perhaps, it was worth mentioning," he said by way of dismissal as he left Katarina to her lunch.

The assassin shoved her plate away, suddenly losing her appetite. She had certainly never gotten along with Talon particularly well, but the very idea of him watching her made the Noxian want to shove the man's head through a wall.

The mental image was strangely comforting, bringing a very slight smile to the assassin's lips. Still dreaming of possible ways to cause the man bodily harm, she picked up the food she'd hardly touched and stood to throw it away.

As she walked, a flash of white in her peripheral vision caught her attention, and her eyes met those of the Frost Archer. The smile faded as her dream last night came rushing back to her. She took a moment to remind herself that the images she had witnessed in the dream had not actually transpired. Ashe's gaze never faltered. She stood off to the side, far removed from the rest of the dining hall, her expression unreadable. Still, the assassin got the distinct impression that she was being read, as if the other woman was aware of the images in her head. The feeling vanished as soon as the archer lowered her cowl, effectively breaking eye contact. Still, Katarina continued to stare.

As she watched, another figure walked into her field of vision, and she stiffened at the sight of the barbarian summoner from the day before. There was too much of Tryndamere in the boy's features. Still, the look on his face was a mixture of reverence and genuine friendliness, distinguishing him from the barbarian Katarina had originally envisioned.

He approached Ashe with a respectful bow, and the woman turned her back on Katarina in order to face him. He was speaking animatedly about something, and she was nodding politely in response. Curiosity burned within the assassin, though she could not say why. Before she had too much of a chance to wonder what the man was saying to his queen, he began to lead her out of the hall.

Katarina swore under her breath, resisting the urge to follow them. She wasn't one to put stock in dreams, but the images from the ghostly replica of the Institute, coupled with the remembrance of the scratch on Ashe's cheek from the night before were making the woman suddenly uneasy.

"Sinister Blade?" asked a voice from behind her, and she took care to not show any outward signs of surprise as she turned to face the summoner who had approached her.

"What do you want?" she asked sharply, eying his neutral white robes.

"I have been selected to inform you that the next tournament round will be fought a few hours from now. You were one of the champions chosen to compete."

Katarina quirked a brow at his statement. "Another advanced notice?" she said skeptically. "Am I to believe you this time?" Despite her words, she knew that she would be fighting no matter what, due to Raina's presence in the tournament.

The man nodded his head. "We recognize that recent matches have not gone according to plan. In order to avoid confusion, we spoke to the competing summoners beforehand. They have agreed on all terms set. They have completed the draft, and nothing will be changed now."

The annoyance that Katarina initially felt at the thought of being so controlled by the summoning procedures faded as something clicked within her head, and she realized that the barbarian summoner must have been informing Ashe.

"I'm against Freljord?"

The man gave another nod. "The opposing teams for this battle are Freljord and Noxus."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: On Thin Ice

"Wonderful. The Sinister Blade graces us with her presence," sneered Renekton as Katarina moved to take her place on the summoning platform with a scowl.

"Can it, Scale Face," she replied as she moved to stand between Talon and Draven.

"Good luck," said Talon as she stepped past him.

"Don't need it," she muttered in reply as the summoning magic took hold of her team, pulling them all to the Fields of Justice.

_Welcome to Summoner's Rift! _declared the announcer, who they all ignored.

Talon nodded in Katarina's direction. "I'll keep watch on your lane," he said to the assassin, who fixed him with a look that could melt lead.

"Keep watch on Scale Face's lane," she retorted, making sure Renekton could hear her, "I'm sure he'll need the babysitting." The crocodile bared his teeth at her, but said nothing as he departed for his lane. Immediately after, Katarina followed suit.

_Shall I trust that you've slept well this time? _Raina's voice echoed in her head, causing the woman to groan inwardly. Whatever lingering hope she had that the summoner would leave her be for this match quickly dissipated.

_Stay out of my head and out of my way, _she ordered. To her surprise, the girl actually seemed to agree with her.

_You're the boss, _she replied as the link between their minds faded.

Katarina had little time to wonder at the girl's behavior before a wall of solid ice suddenly jutted out from the ground directly in front of her. Startled, she took a step backwards only to realize the ground beneath her feet was also frozen solid. Anivia emerged from the trees, her wings beating furious glacial winds in her wake.

Quickly, the ice dissipated and Katarina was able to strike her with a blade. The Cryophoenix took the hit without falter, shooting another wave of ice at the assassin, which she dodged with a tight roll across the cold ground.

"Let's soar," said Anivia, hovering just above the ground and nodding in Katarina's direction as the minions began to appear.

The Cryphoenix proved to be a powerful and challenging opponent. Her height advantage made it difficult for Katarina to land hits, though she still managed to strike the bird's underbelly as she coated the ground below with ice sheets. More than once, the assassin found herself slipping across the ice, a development that Anivia always watched for and took full advantage of.

The battle between them was long and vicious, dragging on before Katarina finally lost her tower under the pressure of the Cryophoenix's rapidly approaching minions.

_Everything alright?_

Katarina flinched instinctively at the question before she realized that it had been Talon, not Raina, who was addressing her from his position in the nearby jungle.

_Fine. She's left and I can take down her tower now. Go back to Scale Face. _

_I actually could use your help. Take the tower and join me. _

Katarina shot down a group of advancing enemy minions, allowing her own to advance to the base of Anivia's tower. _What's going on? _

_Bottom lane is having difficulties. The Frost Archer is taking too many kills. _

Katarina swore under her breath and melded into the jungle, meeting Talon at the riverbank. He stepped aside and allowed her to lead the way towards the bottom lane. Soon, the enemy tower came into view over the tree line, and Draven's distinct voice drifted into the jungle.

"Whoa there honey, no need to be so cold."

Katarina frowned as she settled into the tall grass. _He's getting his ass kicked, isn't he?_

_That's a bit of an understatement, _replied Talon as the two watched the advancing Frost Archer take out another line of his minions.

_Wait until she's a few more steps closer and cut her off, _ordered Katarina, watching the woman's movements very closely. She took another step towards the Noxian tower, then another. Katarina tensed, ready to strike.

At that exact moment, the archer turned towards the trees and shot a crystal hawk directly over the concealed assassins' heads.

"Fuck. Move, now!" ordered Katarina, and the two lurched out of the grass and gave chase just as Ashe began retreating, firing a line of icy arrows as she hastily backed up to her tower. Talon's blades raked across her skin, which combined with Katarina's knife to nearly cut her down. Still she retreated, almost to the safety of her tower, before Katarina pulled out another blade and aimed it right between the woman's shoulders in what would surely be a deadly blow.

The knife sailed just over Ashe's shoulder and she ran away, unharmed.

"Fuck!" shouted Katarina again, balling her hands into fists. Behind her, Draven erupted into laughter, and she shoved the man to the ground with disgust. "And how many times has she _killed you, _fuckface?" she asked, effectively silencing him before she angrily returned to her team's fountain.

The match continued to wear on, dragging far beyond the typical time slot, and all of the champions were beginning to feel the fatigue. After a failed battle, the five members of the Noxian team gathered at the edge of their base.

"If we can just get them all together, we can kill them in a group," reasoned Draven. Beside him, Blitzcrank beeped in agreement.

"We need information on their location," interjected Talon, scanning the trees ahead. "They're most likely in our jungle, or by the river. They've invaded our side fairly often this match."

Katarina nodded in agreement and moved to the edge of the trees, but Renekton called after her angrily, "Hey! Sinister Blade! Don't go wandering off, you'll get yourself killed."

The woman glowered at him. "Then get your asses over here!"

"Lead the way, but be careful," warned Talon, falling into step behind her.

Slowly, the five champions moved through the jungle, searching for any signs of the enemy team and making sure to keep to the tall grass to avoid being seen.

"Any sign of them?" whispered Draven, peering around at his surroundings uneasily.

In response, a huge crystal arrow flew out of the trees and slammed into Blitzcrank, sending the golem back against the ground, his limbs flying in all different directions.

"Found them!" roared Renekton, surging forward as the enemy team did and meeting Tryndamere's blade with his own.

The fight passed quickly in a whirlwind, and Katarina was barely aware of who she was attacking. She noticed Anivia plummeting out of the air with one of Draven's axes buried into her wing, then spun around on her heel to strike down Volibear as he viciously sunk his teeth into Talon's throat. Renekton had abandoned his fight with Tryndamere in order to lop off Nunu's head as he passed, but Tryndamere made him pay for his lapse in concentration, striking the crocodile down, then spinning his hulking blade to finish Draven. Katarina ducked out of the way as the sword swung back around in her direction, narrowly avoiding a crippling blow. She dodged several more of the barbarian's wild swings before lunging, swiping her knife across his chest in a vicious slash. His blade caught her in the air, digging a deep gash into her leg. She stumbled and fell to the ground, and he lifted his blade over his shoulder and aimed directly at her head, rage filling his eyes.

Immediately, the assassin rolled, narrowly keeping her head. She used what little strength she had to teleport behind him before he could stand up, thrusting her knife into the back of his neck and severing his spine.

She felt a rush of fear when she realized that he hadn't fallen dead yet. He was still moving into a standing position, reaching around to grab her, hands closing around her neck even as she wrenched the blade that was still lodged inside of his, sending a cascade of blood to the ground as his grip finally went slack.

She stood up off of his body and stared down at him for a moment, waiting for the announcer to declare her ace. It did not come.

"Fuck!" she roared, aiming a hard kick directly at the barbarian's face that cracked what little was left of his neck and sent his head rolling. She watched its progression for only a moment before her leg started throbbing in protest and she suddenly realized that she needed to move.

She dashed through the trees as quickly as she could given her injury, leaving a trail of blood in her wake – only half of it hers. Her left leg was mangled, bordering on useless, but she still found the energy to move as the long, deep gash began to heal. Her mind raced as she travelled, trying to take stock of all of the bodies. Who was left alive? She didn't have time to double check. She had thought the other nine champions were all dead, but the announcer hadn't declared the ace when Tryndamere had fallen. An enemy was still nearby.

Despite the injury, she still managed to devise a strategy – one that unfortunately did not involve returning to the fountain immediately. Both nexuses were completely exposed, and she was roughly at the halfway point between hers and that of her enemy. She had to make a choice, and quickly. She doubted she had the strength to end it on the spot. What if her enemy was thinking along the same lines and went for her own? If they were in any better condition than her, that would be a fatal mistake –

A piercing screech sounded over the tree line, and Katarina flinched instinctively at the sound before her eyes locked on to the crystal hawk that circled overhead. As soon as it saw her, it swooped into a dive, landing in a nearby grove of trees on the opposing team's side.

Ashe was nearby. What's more, she was nearby and retreating. That was all the information the assassin needed to make a decision.

She felt a renewing energy course through her body, and was unable to distinguish the source of the sensation – summoning magic and her body's own natural responses seemed almost one and the same. The pain in her leg faded to a dull throb as she doubled her speed, shooting through the enemy jungle in the direction of the shimmering hawk. As she drew closer, she could hear the sounds of something crashing through the trees ahead of her, moving away. Her eyes narrowed to slits as she chased her prey, summoning the power within her own body and releasing it, instantly appearing behind her target.

Her strong arms stopped the fleeing woman in her tracks, and cold steel found its way to Ashe's throat. The archer stood rigid in Katarina's grasp, as if her body was quite suddenly encased in ice. The assassin could feel the woman's fear, hanging thick in the air between them. Her own heart hammered after the way she'd just exerted herself, pounding in her ears as her grip on the Freljordian tightened unnecessarily, her body pressed up against Ashe's back as the tip of the knife rested in the hollow of her throat.

Suddenly, her mind went completely blank. Everything faded in an instant. Her surroundings had vanished, as had the crowd of people watching her, the knife in her hand…gone, all gone. What was left was only tactile sensation, the feeling of frozen skin turning rigid under her touch.

The pause took all of two seconds, but Katarina felt as if she'd been standing in that position for hours, lost to everything but the cold radiating off of the other woman.

Unconsciously, her grip loosened, lowering the blade just slightly. Her awareness returned to her suddenly when she heard Ashe inhale sharply, but the next instant, she was gone as well in a flash of white light.

The Noxian only had time to lower her arm and raise her head in confusion before her mind caught up with her. She was staring down the tip of a gleaming, ice-covered arrow, aimed directly at her heart.

_Move, _she thought to herself, but nothing would respond. Another second passed before the bow released and she fell into a dark, cold pit.

* * *

><p>Life returned to Katarina in a sudden rush, and her eyes snapped open as a sudden gasp escaped her lips. For the second time that day, she found herself waking on a cold stone platform, completely disoriented. A voice was calling her, growling at her to stand up, reminiscent of her morning. However, this time, the voice was accompanied by a rough hand that nearly dragged her into a standing position.<p>

"Your incompetence continues to amaze me, Sinister Blade." Renekton's voice had a vicious snarl to it that called Katarina into a state of alertness as her surroundings finally registered with her. She was not on the team's fountain, where she had expected to be. She was standing on the summoning platform, staring out a crowd full of bewildered spectators, and nearly all eyes were on her.

She turned to glance at her teammates and saw them wearing the same expression. It took another second for the answer to dawn on her.

_Ashe…_

Her head snapped to the opposite side of the platform, where the disheveled Frost Archer was standing, taking great care to not look at her. The expression on her face was colder than the ice she commanded.

"What. Happened?" demanded a voice behind her, and she turned to meet Raina's furious gaze.

At first, no answer came to her, and she stared at the summoner with a blank expression before her mind caught up with her, her temper returning with an exaggerated flare. "If you had any sense, you'd shut that damn mouth of yours."

"You had all the time in the world to finish it!" exclaimed Raina, throwing her hands into the air.

The Noxian narrowed her eyes at the summoner and took a threatening step forward. "Do _not _question my ability, or else," she warned.

To her amazement, the small girl actually held her murderous eyes. "Or else what?"

There was a tense moment of silence as the two regarded each other.

"Raina, don't provoke her," warned one of her fellow summoners, stepping forward to rest his hand on her shoulder, which Raina quickly shook off.

"Go," demanded Katarina, her gaze turning red.

After another tense moment, the girl finally turned away from the Sinister Blade, who filled with a powerful rage – at herself, at Raina, at Ashe, at her own incompetence.

_What happened?_

The question echoed in her mind, freezing her limbs with remembrance of the way her body had stilled at the last possible instant.

"You failed." The voice echoed her thoughts, but it was not her own. She turned to look at Renekton, who stood at his full height, smirking down at her condescendingly.

The world fell away again, fading from her awareness until the two of them were the only ones remaining. The smoldering anger rose in Katarina, spreading heat throughout her limbs. Deep within her, the delicate restraint she depended on snapped.

She wasn't even aware that she had moved. It wasn't until she felt warm liquid splash against her face that she gained any semblance of self-awareness. Her enraged cry echoed off the walls as her knife moved at blinding speed, driving into the flesh between scales wherever she could reach. The huge crocodile roared in agony and tried with desperation to pull the woman off of him, but her fingers dug in, one hand tightening around the hilt of the blade that protruded from his back. Blood poured down to the stone platform as one of his huge hands closed around her wrist. She heard bone snap, but felt nothing.

More hands were on her now, gripping her clothes and pulling roughly. Men were shouting in anger or fear, but she could make out no words. She was aware of a distant, cold sensation on her shoulder; a desperate, pleading voice.

Finally, the hands tore her from her iron grip and Katarina slipped to the floor, landing on her back. She could still see the blade that she had left in the crocodile's flesh. She turned away from it as a swarm of summoners closed in on her, pinning her limbs to the floor. More shouting reached her ears.

Between their bodies, she could just make out Ashe's face. The woman was looking at her with an expression that could only be described as deep concern. That was all she saw before the summoners closed in like an oppressive wall, holding her to the ground with their combined strength. Someone was screaming in her face, but she barely heard it. Someone else adjusted her where she lay, and she felt cold metal encircle her wrists. Before she could comprehend a standing motion, she was already on her feet and being lead away.

* * *

><p>"We have these rules for a reason, Sinister Blade."<p>

Katarina looked up from the chair that she was currently chained to and observed the panel of white robes. The summoners all stared down at her with stone-faced expressions.

"You are certainly no stranger to the regulations prohibiting violence."

She couldn't help the gentle smirk that came to her lips.

"There are some among us who question your stability, and your ability to serve your city-state in a dignified manner."

She snorted at his words. As if she could uphold her dignity while chained to a chair.

"You should consider yourself extremely lucky that Renekton's exterior prevented lethal damage."

_Lucky? What a concept, _she thought bitterly.

"Speak in your defense," commanded the man who stood at the center of the panel.

Katarina sat in silence. The moments leading up to her attack were hazy and difficult to recall. What she did remember, however, was the lingering anger from the match, the battle-haze that always descended on her brain. Finally, she spoke.

"You expect me to kill for you viciously one moment and shake my opponent's hand the next," she stated.

She watched as the summoners glanced among each other with confused expressions. She gave them a moment to mumble to themselves before addressing her again. "You are a veteran of the League. We do expect you to issue the proper self-restraint at the appropriate times. We expect this of all of our champions, save the few that we restrain." His last words hung heavily in the room, and Katarina caught the implication. She shifted in her chair, rattling the chains that bound her. One hand fiddled with her left wrist, bandaged and broken.

As the noise faded, the man continued. "Your talents are revered here. However, your lapses in judgment cannot be tolerated. You're suspended from the Fields of Justice until further notice," here, Katarina felt her stomach lurch, "and in addition, you will be required to give your time to the Institute in other ways."

"How dare you!" she snapped, glaring at each member of the panel with narrowed eyes.

"You aren't helping your case, Sinister Blade. Besides, you are currently injured. This suspension is temporary, and relies heavily on your good behavior."

Katarina opened her mouth to speak, but another voice cut her off. "It's also conditional. All of this is reliant on your continued membership."

All eyes fell on the man sitting at one of the ends of the panel, who, upon realizing that he commanded the attention in the room, stood up and regarded Katarina with an utterly blank expression. The Noxian found herself struck by his distinctly Freljordian features, but his words were of more concern.

"What do you mean?" she demanded.

"Exactly as I said. While you are in service to the Institute, these are the terms for your continued presence within the League."

Katarina stared the man for a long, tense moment. "Are you saying I should leave?"

"No. You alone can make that decision."

Then man in the center of the panel suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Summoner Grímnir –"

The man – Grímnir – cut him off. "The Sinister Blade should be reminded of her options." To Katarina, he said: "I urge you to consider your place here."

She held his stoic gaze for a moment before responding. "I remain in the League."

Grímnir showed no emotion as he took his seat once again. The man at the center of the panel looked somewhat relieved.

"You understand the terms, then?"

Katarina scowled but nodded her head, rubbing her broken wrist once again.

"Good. In the future, please try to remember that violence – in all forms – is prohibited off the Fields of Justice."

_In all forms…_

Before she could stop herself, Katarina was speaking again. "You say that as if it doesn't happen right under your nose."

The man looked taken aback by her remark. "Excuse me?"

The Noxian shook her head bitterly, her disgust rising.

_Tell them, _argued one voice in her head.

_Why do I even care? _asked another.

Her mind filled with the image of Ashe, lying broken and bleeding on the steps of the Institute, and the words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them.

"Tryndamere beats Ashe."

The room fell completely and utterly silent as the summoners stared at Katarina, dumbfounded. "What…are you basing this claim on?" asked the man in the center once he had finally recovered.

"Eyewitness," she replied. "I saw it myself. More than once."

Once again, Grímnir rose. Instead of his previous stoicism, he seemed to be struggling, waging an internal battle with himself. "What does a Noxian know of the Freljordian queen?" he finally asked, fixing her with a hard stare.

Katarina shifted, uncomfortable. "I'm only telling you what I've observed."

"And why should we believe you?" he replied. "You have great reason to hate the barbarians. This could be a ruse."

Katarina glowered at him. "Believe me, or not."

Silence. Grímnir stared down at the Noxian for several moments before he finally stepped forward. "Let me observe her mind."

The assassin tensed at the prospect and bit back a curse. _I should have kept my mouth shut. _

The man at the center of the panel was still in a state of shock, but he nodded slowly, allowing it. No sooner had he inclined his head then Katarina felt another presence in her mind, sifting through her memories with ease.

"Stay out of there!" she barked.

Grímnir fixed her with another stare. "Then show me what it is I need to see."

The Noxian sighed, sliding her eyes shut. She again felt Grímnir's mind meld with her own. Slowly, she recalled the memories – the night behind the bar, the bruises, Tryndamere's interruption at the training room, the way he touched her, the way she flinched…Katarina tried to present these images with as little context of herself as possible, focusing solely on the sight before her, but she felt Grímnir wrestle with the memories, trying to pull more detail from them. As time went on, she could feel his rage escalating.

Finally, she opened her eyes to meet his. He looked almost frightened, shock clearly evident on his face. Unconsciously, he took a step away from the Noxian and struggled to find his voice.

"It…it is true."

The panel dissolved into a flurry of activity, but Grímnir never moved, his eyes fixed on the assassin.

"We have to act immediately," said one man.

"How?" asked another.

"Let me help," called Katarina, her voice cutting through the room and drawing the focus back to her.

"You are on probation," said the man at the center.

Before Katarina could respond, Grímnir was already speaking. "She comes with us. Unchain her."

The other summoners stared at him uneasily.

"Now!" he commanded.

The man at the center bowed his head and stepped forward, pulling the chains off of the Noxian while Katarina contemplated the bizarre shift of power. Once the chains clattered to the floor she flexed her arms, shaking away the stiffness before rubbing a hand over her broken wrist. Satisfied with the bandage and with her freedom, she turned back to the summoners, her thoughts shifting immediately to Ashe.

They were preparing now, and several were assembling a few guards who were posted nearby and informing them of the situation. Throughout the whole process, Grímnir continued to stare openly at the Noxian. Katarina assumed that the man was lost in concern for his queen, but he surprised her when he leaned forward and whispered to her, so softly that she almost didn't hear him.

"_You're on thin ice." _

She blinked and thought of asking him what he meant, but he was already gone, joining the group of guards and summoners who were gathering. One of them waved her over and she quickly followed, her gut twisting as she did so.

* * *

><p>Katarina crouched at the base of the grand white door, her fingers tracing over the golden patterns as she listened carefully for the signs of life within. So far, all she had managed to detect was a pair of light footfalls.<p>

Another minute passed before she heard a second set of footsteps, heavier than the first, followed by muffled voices. She waited until the heavier set moved away before giving a very quiet knock.

A moment passed before the door slowly opened to reveal Ashe's pale cheek, as well as one lone blue eye. "Katarina?" she whispered in surprise.

The Noxian motioned for her to come out of her room, and after a glance over her shoulder, the archer stepped into the hallway and silently closed the door behind her. Katarina took half a moment to observe her, taking in the lowered cowl and the mostly-healed scratch on her cheek.

"Come with me," she whispered, leading Ashe down the hallway.

"What's going on?" asked the archer, glancing nervously over her shoulder. "I shouldn't be leaving…"

"Don't worry," said Katarina. As they rounded the corner, she could hear the sounds of the others closing in on the other side of the hallway.

The next corner they came to brought them face-to-face with Grímnir, who watched the two of them approach with an expression that was almost painful.

"Grímnir?" Ashe looked at the man in confusion. The look on his face must have alerted her, for she quickly adopted her formal tone. "What is it?"

"My queen…" he trailed off, staring at the cut on Ashe's cheek before dropping into a low bow. "Please…permit me to help you."

"Help me?" she stared down at him before turning back to Katarina. "What is he talking about?"

"ARRRGGHHH!"

Tryndamere's roar echoed off the walls, followed quickly by shouts and the sound of clashing steal. Ashe's eyes widened, and before Katarina could stop her, she had bolted down the hallway without a word. The assassin followed, hot on her heels.

When they rounded the corner, they could see the barbarian throwing the summoners who were attempting to restrain him. The guards already lay in heaps on the floor, save for one, who was clutching his ankle in agony.

"Tryndamere, stop!" yelled Ashe, rushing to try and calm him, but he threw out his hand and shoved her away. Katarina felt her body coil into a spring and she launched herself at him, throwing the big man back against the wall. Behind her, Ashe was yelling, but she couldn't make out what the other woman was saying.

He struggled to free his hand enough to throw a punch, which she nimbly dodged. She let his momentum bring him forward, then caught him around the neck, swinging so that she was angled just behind him, a blade aimed at his throat.

"Move and you die," she hissed in his ear, but he was already moving to pull the knife away.

_No you don't. _Reacting quickly, she instead thrust her knee upwards, slamming directly into his groin. The man paused in his attempts to grab her and exhaled sharply, wincing tightly in pain. By then, Grímnir was ready with a pair of heavy cuffs that he quickly slid around the man's wrists.

"Barbarian Tryndamere, you are being detained for displaying violence off the Fields of Justice."

At the declaration, Ashe's face grew even paler. "No…"

The man had recovered enough to glare up at Grímnir with rage. "You can't do this to me," he growled. "I'm your KING!"

"And I am your senior summoner," the man replied.

The barbarian turned his gaze on Ashe. "You did this!"

The woman shook her head roughly. "No…" she repeated softly, suddenly turning to Grímnir. "Let him go."

The summoner looked uncomfortable as he hid his surprise. "I…am sorry, my queen. I cannot."

"I command you to release him!" she said, her voice ringing with authority.

Grímnir bowed his head deeply as he explained. "I am under an oath to uphold the laws established by the League, my queen. I cannot break that oath for anyone."

The queen took a moment before responding. "What are your orders?"

Grímnir came out of his bow as he answered. "To detain the barbarian, Tryndamere, and escort him to a hearing. To secure you and bring you to a separate hearing for evaluation."

Ashe clenched her jaw at his words. "Evaluation?"

"Please, my queen. Let us help you," he repeated his plea from before, but the archer had already turned away from him.

Her eyes fell to Katarina. In their depths, the assassin saw murder. The deep, smoldering anger was rising, resting just beneath the surface. For a moment, the Noxian found herself wondering if the royal woman would snap and attack her. They stood with locked eyes for what seemed like an eternity before Grímnir gently lay a hand on her arm, intending to lead her away. The sudden contact startled her and she ripped her hand away from him.

"Do not touch me," she commanded, still with the same authority as before.

"My apologies," replied Grímnir. "But I still need you to come with me. Immediately." Around him, the guards and summoners that had been knocked down in the fray were starting to rise with mild groans of protest. "Some of us may require medical attention."

Ashe turned back to the assassin, and it was to her that she addressed her words. "I'll go willingly. But only under the condition that she remains here."

Katarina flinched inwardly at the ice in her tone and pulled her gaze away from that of the other woman. Grímnir caught her eye, a grim expression on his face.

_You are on thin ice. _

"The Sinister Blade will be escorted back to her room, where she will await further instruction." He spoke to another summoner who had just stood up and was currently rubbing his head where he had presumably been struck. Still, he nodded in understanding and looked to Katarina, who, after a tense moment, nodded as well as she allowed the man to lead her away, clenching a fist tightly at her side to disguise the fact that she was trembling.

* * *

><p>Back in the darkness of her bedroom, Katarina sat on the bed and stared at the Noxian crest above her headboard. An hour passed before the woman finally found the energy to remove the wrapping from her injured wrist. The adrenaline from the evening had kept her mostly unaware of the pain, but now the limb throbbed in protest after the abuse she'd put it through. After inspecting the damage, she decided that it needed ice.<p>

She thought of leaving to get some from the dining hall, but the task seemed to daunting. Her day had been long enough. Another idea occurred to her as her eyes fell to the locked drawer by her bedside.

After a moment of internal deliberation, she unlocked it, and then carefully pulled out the still-frozen crystal arrow from its depths, gently pressing the flat of the arrowhead against the skin of her wrist and hissing gently at the contact.

A noise at her window startled her, drawing her eyes to the figure of Beatrice. The raven stood with one leg outstretched, as usual. After uttering a soft curse, the assassin moved to the windowsill and carefully pulled the roll of paper from the bird's claw. Though she flapped with discomfort, she did not fly away.

Carefully, the assassin unrolled the note, scanning it quickly. She sighed softly and set it aside after reading it, her eyes drawn back to the hanging above her wall.

Several minutes passed before Beatrice gave a loud squawk, hurrying her along, and after snapping angrily at the bird, Katarina turned over the note and began to scribble out her reply.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: A couple of things, mostly addressed to readers who solely view this site and as such have not seen me talking on my thread. (Yes this is long and I'm (not really) sorry.) **

**1) I apologize for how long this took me. The reason WHY it took me so long is because a) dude it's so fucking long, and b) (more importantly) I just completed my first semester of college, which took up more of my time than I was ever expecting. I never abandoned this story and I spent my off-hours between studying constructing this chapter, which gave me a headache because of its length and because of how important it is plot-wise. I confess I wrote drafts of it about 3 times. I already have fragments for the next chapter in development from awhile ago, so chapter 12 should not take me nearly as long as this one did, in theory.**

**2) I have received some seriously amazing fanart. Like, actually. I love you guys. And if you want to see it, which you should, because it is amazing, you should search up my thread on the LoL Fanfiction forum. **

**3) It occurs to me that, since the majority of people giving me feedback sound totally awesome, I should formally issue an invitation to anyone reading this to add Silver of Souls on the NA server and/or NyokaKione on the EUW server if they so desire to play with me sometime - I have a nice long break until classes start again. Which I will also use for writing, of course. **

**4) I'd like to thank Cerubois, KobuZero, and Mr Ratz. The three of them keep me writing through soft encouragement and, occasionally, pokes with sharp sticks. But you didn't come here to read a really long author's note, so let's get on with the story, shall we? **

Chapter 11: Probation

_Day 1_

"I can already tell that this isn't going to work," said Soraka, her brow furrowing as she took in the sight of the battle-clad assassin before her.

"You and me both," growled Katarina with distrust.

The healer gestured incredulously at the Noxian's attire. "You're working in a hospital…and you show up wearing belts of knives."

"I was unaware of a dress code."

"It's common sense, really. You're on _probation._"

"I always have blades on me," she replied defensively, absently rubbing the tight bandage over her wrist.

Soraka shook her head, exasperated. "Not anymore. You've been assigned to work with us, and you'll follow our regulations." Just then, Akali passed by, wearing a fairly revealing nurse uniform. She seemed to make a point of not looking at the Noxian. Katarina's eyes followed the ninja as she passed.

"Tell me I don't have to wear that," she muttered. If Akali heard her, she made no indication and continued walking.

"No," answered Soraka. "Wear what you like, but you will follow our rules, which include the prohibition of weapons within the hospital walls," here the Starchild extended a hand, as if expecting the assassin to simply hand over the belts of weapons that she carried.

Katarina's eyes narrowed to thin slits as she glared venomously at the Ionian, as if challenging her. Neither moved.

"Katarina," said a voice behind her, breaking the tension in the room. The Noxian turned and found Grímnir staring at her from his position in the doorway. Her frustration transferred to him instantly.

"What are you doing here?"

"I have been sent to ensure that you are adjusting to your assigned task," the man stated simply, his expression returned to the hard stoicism he had displayed when Katarina had first seen him. "I trust you are having no problems?"

Despite his guarded expression, his eyes spoke volumes as he continued to stare at the Noxian.

_You are on thin ice. _

Wordlessly, Katarina broke the stare and turned back to the outstretched hand of the Starchild. Another tense moment passed before she reached down and opened the clasp, placing her belt in Soraka's hand. She moved to the bands that encircled her thighs - each holding several throwing knives – and relinquished those as well before pulling the pair of long blades from her behind her back and laying them across the healer's outstretched arms.

"And the rest," said Grímnir, earning a sharp glare from the woman as she added her arm spikes to the pile, dislodging several long, thin blades that had been concealed.

"Legs."

Katarina growled dangerously as she pulled off her leg spikes, revealing even more concealed knives. That done, she folded her arms across her chest, but Grímnir still watched her expectantly.

A full minute passed before the Noxian unfolded her arms with a sigh and reached beneath her jacket, hand closing around another hilt. Soraka's eyes bulged when she observed the size of the weapon as it was added to the pile, her eyes flying incredulously to Katarina's chest.

"How does that f-"

"Where are you putting them?" interrupted the assassin with annoyance, and the Starchild decided to abandon her question.

"In the medical supplies room," she answered. "The door is locked and well-secured."

"You will receive them again when you leave, and I recommend that you keep this incident in your mind for the future," added Grímnir.

The Noxian snorted in response, her eyes never leaving the pile in Soraka's arms. "Just tell me what to do so I can get this over with."

Soraka nodded to Grímnir after letting out an almost imperceptible sigh. To Katarina, she said, "Follow me."

The blades clinked as they walked, filling the corridors with the sounds of ringing metal. "This is the general care unit," said the healer as they passed by the open doors of several examination rooms, most of which were empty due to the fairly late hour. They reached a locked door, and Soraka motioned for the Noxian to step back.

As Katarina watched, the Starchild emitted a soft green glow not dissimilar to the glow of healing she often emitted on the Fields of Justice. The door seemed to reflect this light for a moment before slowly sliding open. They entered, and Katarina glanced around, taking in the many shelves of medical supplies.

"I don't have to learn what all of these do, do I?"

Soraka hid her smirk well, finding an empty space to store the assassin's knives. "Not unless you're here for a very long time," she replied. "You're starting small, especially with that wrist. Food deliveries, nightly checks. Things like that."

"Can I be security?"

"No."

"But-"

"Moving on." The Starchild side-stepped the begrudging woman, moving into the hall and resealing the door behind them with another burst of green energy. As they moved, they began to pass other Ionians, most of whom stared at Katarina as she passed. "Further along here, we have quarantine, for the very ill," she indicated a long hallway. "Through that door, we conduct major surgeries. Down that hallway are the recovery rooms." She continued on, reaching another corridor lined with doors. "Psychiatric ward," she stated. "Illnesses of the mind."

The Noxian snorted. "You're running a madhouse?"

Soraka fixed her with a hard expression. "A mental handicap should not be confused with lunacy," she stated. "The Institute can be a stressful place to live. We run counseling and help for those struggling with problems of the psychological nature, and I would not give me that look, Sinister Blade, considering that you were almost sent there for evaluation."

The woman stiffened, but before she could recover, the Ionian had already passed through a pair of double doors labeled 'Staff.' After a moment of hesitation, she followed the healer.

"Staff lounge, administration, and through there is the kitchen," finished Soraka, indicating everything as she spoke, "and I believe that's all you need to know at the moment. It's almost dinner time, so head to the kitchen. You're running food delivery tonight." With those words, Soraka departed.

Katarina heaved a sigh and ran a hand across her forehead. The summoners' ideas of "rehabilitation" seemed like a pointless waste of her time. Work in the Ionian hospital was apparently equated with "being constructive," which would apparently be "good for her well-being."

She was an _assassin. _Nothing she did was ever _constructive. _

Still. It was the only way to remain in the League. And her lapse in control had been…disconcerting, even in her own mind. She still couldn't piece together the moments leading up to her attack on Renekton, and, though she would never admit it to even herself, parts of her were afraid to remember.

With a frown, Katarina headed to the kitchen and found a metal cart already stacked with covered plates, and a paper outlining the list of deliveries. _Better get started, _she thought darkly.

After delivering meals to several sick summoners, Katarina found herself in the psychiatric ward. There weren't many deliveries to be made here, suggesting that the number of overnight patients in this hallway were fairly low. She approached the first door, wondered for a moment if she should knock, then shrugged and opened the door unceremoniously.

A pair of wide eyes met her from across the room. She stood in the doorway with the covered plate in her hand, staring at the small figure who was hunched against the far corner, trying to make himself appear as small as possible. It took her a moment to recall the name of the boy she was looking at.

_Cal. _

The Demacian summoner (or perhaps _former _Demacian summoner) was the picture of pathetic. The previously light colored carpet that surrounded his sheltered corner was stained yellow, as were his white clothes, and the bed across from him looked perfectly untouched. It appeared as though he never or seldom moved from his position.

Still, even as he stared at her, Katarina saw a brief flicker of recognition pass across his face, but only for a moment. He did not speak.

According to her written instructions, it was standard procedure to place the plates on the bedside table if the patient was not awake or otherwise unable to receive them directly. The Noxian stepped forward to do so, her eyes never leaving the frightened boy.

As she reached the table, she frowned. He didn't look as though he'd be moving to eat any time soon. She examined the paper, but found no special instructions for him in particular.

He made a soft noise then, a pitiful little sound of fear that brought her eyes back to his.

_He probably thinks I'm going to kill him, _she thought to herself, wondering if the boy had his wits about him enough to recognize her as Noxian.

When he made no other sounds, Katarina stepped forward, careful to avoid the yellow patches, and dropped the plate just inside of the boy's reach. He looked thin, even smaller than when she'd last seen him, but he made no move to get closer to the food.

She thought of Swain then, and wondered exactly what had transpired that day on the Fields of Justice. For one insane moment, she almost considered asking the boy, but turned away and closed the door before the sight of his pitiful body could disgust her any more.

She grabbed another plate off the top and entered the second door without a thought, hoping that whoever was there would not be nearly as pathetic as Cal had been.

She stopped dead in the doorway.

The figure that lay curled on the bed was not that of a broken summoner, as she had expected. Her eyes met a cool blue gaze, and though the woman was clearly self-aware in a way that Cal would likely never be again, her expression mirrored his in a way that was remarkable and terrifying.

For just an instant, right before the recognition kicked in, she was broken – completely and utterly broken.

"Ashe?" said Katarina, unable to keep the shock from her voice.

The look faded, replaced immediately by cold indifference. She was certainly not dressed to impose – like Cal, she wore a simple white tunic that seemed a little too large, and long white pants to match. Coupled with her snowy hair and porcelain skin, she almost looked like a ghost against the crisp white sheets. The only bits of color that stood out were the mostly-healed cut across her cheek and the familiar, ice blue eyes.

Yet still, something in her expression, once it changed to conceal the part of her that was broken, portrayed nobility. And anger. Deep, smoldering anger beneath the surface. Katarina felt a cold shiver slide uneasily down her spine.

The two stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before the Frost Archer finally spoke.

"Leave the plate and go," she commanded, and in her shock, the Noxian could do nothing but obey.

_Day 2_

In the morning, Katarina breezed through her daily routine - including another note written to Swain – before rushing to the hospital.

"Someone's eager," commented Soraka as she passed through the entrance, her mind racing, as it had been for most of the night.

"I just want to get this over with," she muttered.

"And here I thought I'd be pulling knives off of you for at least a week."

The Noxian ignored her, heading straight for the kitchen, where the same metal cart awaited her, this time loaded with breakfast. She made her rounds quickly, making all of her deliveries (save the door she knew to be Renekton's – the summoners had informed the staff that she was not to go in there) before entering the psychiatric ward.

Cal was in the same spot that she'd left him, and she once again dropped the food close by. The dishes from the previous day were gone, and she assumed that someone was tasked with clearing later at night. She wondered if the summoner had eaten anything.

When she stepped back out into the hallway, she glanced at Ashe's door and tensed, knowing that she had rushed the rest of her deliveries to reach this particular room. For a long moment, she stared at the nondescript white door, several uneasy emotions stirring in her gut.

Aside from the dismissive command Ashe had issued the previous night, the two women hadn't spoken since Katarina and the summoners had detained Tryndamere and dragged him off to who-even-knows-where. The Noxian still felt shock when she thought of the regal Queen put up in a psychiatric ward. What had her evaluation revealed? The broken gaze from the night before still haunted her as she slowly pushed the door open.

The Frost Archer was on the bed once again, but sitting up this time. She had been staring at her feet, and glanced up quickly when she had heard the door open. Katarina again felt herself taken aback, seeing the woman without her cowl, her battle dress, her bow. She seemed…vulnerable, even as her eyes once again hardened at the sight of the Noxian.

Another tense moment passed.

"What are you doing here?" she finally demanded, her eyes passing over Katarina, clearly noting the absence of her knives.

"Probation," replied the Noxian. "Summoner's bright ideas."

The archer's eyes narrowed as she remembered. "You attacked Renekton."

"Yes."

"Why?"

The question caught her off guard. "I don't know," she replied.

"Yes, you do."

The assassin kept silent, completely still under Ashe's gaze. Her hard expression never faltered or changed.

"Leave the plate and go," she finally said, in the same tone as the day before. Katarina felt the urge to challenge her this time, and so she stood for a moment, debating internally. Soon, the cold eyes won the silent battle, and she set the plate on the nightstand and departed without another word.

_Day 3_

"Why is Ashe here?" demanded Katarina upon entering the hospital the next morning.

Soraka looked up from the front desk and raised an eyebrow at the assassin's unconventional entrance. "Yes, good morning," she replied.

"I asked you a question," growled the assassin, placing her hands on the table and leaning forward.

"If you're trying to appear to menacing, it's not working," sighed the healer. "We both know how much trouble misbehavior will get you into." After a stern look, she returned to the stack of papers she appeared to be sorting. "As for the Frost Archer, that's none of your concern –"

Katarina cut her off. "I brought the council's attention to her –"

"…and all our records are completely confidential," finished the Ionian, as if she hadn't been interrupted.

"Without me, she would never even be here!"

Soraka shook her head vigorously, beginning to lose her patience. "Yes, I've spoken to Grímnir. I'm fully aware of the situation. You still have no access to Ashe's medical records."

The Noxian lowered her head, glowering at Soraka with dangerous eyes. "What did he do –"

The healer interrupted, slamming down the large stack of files she had been holding. "Enough. Get to work," she said dismissively, turning away from the desk and disappearing into a door behind her. Katarina glared at her back as she left, then reluctantly moved to the kitchen.

Her agitation was not helped by the fact that she had not been sleeping, her mind to preoccupied with images of the smoldering anger within the archer's eyes to even contemplate the possibility of sleep.

_What have I done? _Katarina wondered to herself as she absently made her deliveries, receiving considerably less stares from the patients and other hospital workers who were beginning to grow accustomed to, if not comfortable with, her presence.

She could not call the feeling _regret._ Regret, in her mind, was a fatal decision in battle, an instantaneous blunder, a lost match. _Regret _had no place off of the battlefield. It was not shameful, not remorseful - but angry, tinged with battle-fury. Every wrong move, every fatal blow she took was a bitter lesson, and in her rage at her own failures, still, she _learned._

But this…this feeling. What was there to gain from this? It was the same feeling she'd felt while locked in the dream, staring at the broken figure of Ashe lying on the Institute, the same feeling she'd felt in the brief hazy moments after her failed kill on the Fields of Justice right before the resurrection magic had taken hold, the same feeling she'd had staring into Ashe's murderous gaze after Grímnir had detained Tryndamere. But she had no name for it, no knowledge of it.

However, the assassin had ways of dealing with emotions she could not comprehend.

_Bang!_

The door hit the wall roughly, causing the air in the room to vibrate with enraged energy. The Noxian crossed the room immediately, shoving the plate onto the side table and turning a narrowed eye towards the other occupant of the room.

The natural terror on Cal's face only escalated when their gazes locked, and he made himself even smaller as she took several slow, threatening steps in his direction.

"Are you going to say something?" she demanded in a low, dangerous voice, scoffing with disgust when she noticed another puddle spreading beneath the boy's legs. She lowered herself almost to his level, very careful to avoid the mess he was making. A long moment passed before his trembling lips finally began to move in a feeble attempt to form words.

"P-p-pleas-se," he whispered, voice hoarse with lack of use, "d-d-don't-t hurt-t m-m-me," he forced the nearly inaudible plea out with great effort, his last syllable fading into a frightened squeak as he brought his shaking hands to cover his face.

"You are the most pathetic piece of shit I've ever seen," muttered Katarina with loathing. "Made no better by the fact that you're Demacian."

The boy continued to make a series of kitten-like whimpers as he gradually pulled himself into a smaller and smaller shape.

"Your weakness only proves the inferiority of your city-state." As she spoke, her eyes fell to the boy's chest and she imagined, just for a moment, a brilliant flower of crimson spreading across his loose white shirt. The image was tantalizing, but she released it, reminding herself of the reason why she was currently standing before him in the first place.

Slowly, the Noxian rose, crossing to the table where she had hastily discarded the plate of food. She moved it back to the floor, just in reach of the cowering summoner, and departed without another word.

Anger still paced through her mind, red-hot and sharp. The feeling flared as she lay a hand on the Frost Archer's door and shoved it open…then dissipated instantly as her eyes fell to the figure on the bed.

The snow-haired woman lay asleep, curled in on herself. She was facing the door, hands clutched to her chest, her face still and peaceful in the rays of sunlight that shone from the window behind her. Katarina was again struck by her current state, how bizarre she looked without armor or her bow. In fact, she looked completely vulnerable at present – soft and fragile, a sight that would under normal circumstances lose all respect from the assassin.

Still…in her figure, there was a remarkable strength, and her limbs almost seemed to thrum with energy even as she slept. There was a life to her, a vibrancy that was evident, even now.

Careful not to disturb the other woman, Katarina gently lay the plate on the side table beside her. She surprised herself by remaining still for another moment, silently observing the archer – the way she seemed to squeeze the sheets in her grasp, the disheveled state of her hair, the sight of her brow as it furrowed slightly. How unusual it was to see the Freljord queen like this.

As if she could hear the other woman's thoughts, Ashe stirred gently before opening her eyes, her body tightening when she realized that she had company. Before Katarina could react, she had bolted upright on the bed, glaring at her with distrust. She said nothing, and the two stared at each other for a long moment.

"You can go now," said Ashe, her voice ringing with authority, but Katarina did not move from her position.

The Frost Archer's gaze never faltered and her jaw clenched tightly as the seconds ticked by. It was Katarina who broke the silence.

"Why did they put you here?" she asked, her voice coming out more forcefully than she had intended.

"That isn't your concern."

"Isn't it?"

The archer's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. A full minute passed before Katarina spoke again.

"You know what I think?"

Ashe said nothing.

"You're not helping yourself. You're sitting there angry and you can't do a damn thing about it."

"What do you know about me?" retorted Ashe.

Katarina took a step closer to the bed, crossing her arms across her chest. "Not nearly as much as I know about rage." She leaned in, her eyes locked onto Ashe's. There it was, smoldering deep beneath the surface, ready to explode. "Such a proper, dignified monarch. When was the last time you let yourself get angry?" her tone was intentionally condescending, as if she were speaking down to a child. She saw the blue eyes in front of her flash crimson.

"Unlike you, I have self control," countered Ashe, still holding herself together despite her rising anger, "which they don't seem to teach you in Noxus."

Katarina let out a short, humorless chuckle. "If they didn't teach me self control, I assure you, the halls of the League would be permanently stained red."

Despite the subtle threat, Ashe didn't even bat an eyelash. "Violence. Killing. That's all you know, isn't it?"

The assassin fell silent, searching the archer's eyes. She realized that Ashe was shaking, almost imperceptibly so.

"That's all you know," she repeated. "It's all both of you know!" Suddenly, she shot off the bed, her hand colliding with Katarina's chest and shoving her away roughly. "Get out!"

The Noxian recovered quickly and stood defiantly, holding Ashe's gaze. The archer's trembling was becoming more visible.

"_Out," _she repeated again, the word so commanding it could have made anyone fall to their knees.

Katarina turned away and left, closing the door behind her with a soft 'click.' She listened at the door. The sounds of agitated pacing echoed for several minutes before the room once again fell silent.

_Day 4_

Despite the rise that she had been able to get out of the archer on the previous day, Ashe gave no acknowledgement of the events that had transpired that morning. When Katarina entered with the plate, she was lying on her side, facing away from the door.

"Turning your back on an assassin. Interesting decision."

Ashe didn't move. "You're not going to hurt me."

The Noxian couldn't help the gentle smirk that spread across her face. "I thought that violence was all I know."

"Are you denying it?"

Katarina thought for a moment, letting the images fill her mind once again. "No."

Silence filled the room for a long, tense moment.

"You belong in here," said Ashe. "More than I do."

As she spoke, Soraka's words danced around in Katarina's mind. _I would not give me that look, Sinister Blade, considering that you were almost sent there for evaluation._

Deep within her, the Noxian felt the truth of those words, but she shoved them aside.

"Why _are _you here?" she asked, hoping for an answer this time. She watched Ashe's shoulder blades rise and fall in a heavy sigh.

"I'm here because of you."

The Noxian's eyebrows rose at that. "Funny thing to say to someone who saved you."

"You don't understand how to help people," Ashe said, keeping her voice level. "And it's better if you don't. It's not your style." The assassin frowned, crossing her arms and leaning against the closed door. Swain's words came to mind, and she reminded herself of the reasons she had started speaking to the archer in the first place.

"Helping people doesn't suit an assassin," Katarina agreed after contemplating for a moment, "similar to the way that being helped doesn't suit a monarch."

She watched Ashe's body stiffen at her words. "You have no idea what you've done."

"Enlighten me."

Ashe finally turned around to face the Noxian. "Did it ever occur to you that there was a _reason _I stayed in that marriage?"

"Well, I figured it wasn't his good looks," muttered the assassin.

The Frost Archer ignored the remark. "Our union was more than the joining of two people – it was symbolic. It linked our tribes with the Northern barbarians."

Katarina almost laughed. "You realize who you're telling this to."

The look Ashe gave her was almost capable of melting lead. "You're the last person I expect to understand my goal, Noxian," she said coldly. "Freljord has been fractured for too long. All I am trying to do is hold my people together."

"By marrying a man who beats you?"

"I wouldn't expect you to understand. Go back to work. We're done here."

_Day 5_

Concealing weapons was not new to Katarina. Still, she felt slightly less than confident about the idea she had thought up.

Soraka no longer glared at her closely when she walked through the door in the morning, a fact that the assassin was more than happy about, especially seeing as it was the only way that her plan would work. The size of the blades did make them more difficult to conceal, but she felt confident that, so long as the healer did not examine her too closely, she would be safe.

As luck would have it, the Starchild barely even looked up when she came through the entrance, too buried in a stack of papers to pay too much attention. "Kitchen," was all she said as the Noxian carefully made her way through the doors labeled 'Staff' without saying a word.

Despite the order, she bypassed the kitchen, making a beeline for Ashe's room. As soon as she reached empty hallway, she slipped the blades out from their hiding places at her back. She did not allow herself a moment to pause before throwing the door open, causing the woman on the bed to jump and face the door with surprise.

Katarina stood in the doorway, both blades at the ready, her face twisted into a look of violence. Without a word, she tossed one knife in Ashe's direction, hilt first. The woman barely managed to catch the weapon safely.

"What are you –" she started to ask before the assassin cut her off with a sudden charge that sent her flying off the bed as a clash of steel echoed off the walls. "_Are you insane?!_"

"Lift your weapon and _fight,_" the Noxian demanded, charging the woman again without warning. The archer threw up her blade in a poor, hasty block that barely saved her neck.

Ashe managed to put distance between herself and the assassin, but her attempt to speak was again silenced by Katarina's assault. This left the archer close to the door. She made a break for it, but the Noxian was too quick, landing directly in front of her retreating form and shoving her back into the room. She followed the movement with another lunge that Ashe blocked with a violent, angry slash, nearly knocking Katarina aside.

Despite the apparent unrestrained nature of her attacks, the Noxian was being exceedingly careful not to harm the archer, but she disguised that fact behind calculated brutality. Ashe was now beginning to retaliate, striking the other woman's blades with sudden vigor. Her face had twisted from confusion to anger.

Katarina was careful to keep her own face neutral as she kept putting pressure on the archer, blade swinging wildly in complicated flourishes. Ashe began to respond with relentless rushes of her own, and though her movements were awkward and elementary, the sheer force of her attacks caught the Noxian off-guard. Katarina threw her blade out in a vicious stab, but Ashe responded with amazingly quick reflexes, knocking the blade out of her hand.

The next instant, she threw her weight against the Noxian and lifted her blade, pinning her to the wall as she rested the knife tip against Katarina's throat. "_What the hell do you think you're doing?_" she demanded.

The assassin allowed a small smirk to form. "Are you angry yet, ice queen?"

The archer's eyes narrowed to slits and the knife came a fraction of an inch closer. Katarina stared back, unflinching.

"Do you think this is some kind of joke?" Ashe growled, venom dripping off her words.

"Not at all," came the honest reply. "Repressing your rage is quite serious."

A vein in Ashe's forehead tightened as she clamped down on her jaw.

"Get it out. Now."

Something in the other woman's eyes snapped. For half an instant, Katarina was sure that her life was about to be cut short by the knife tip at her throat. As soon as the realization entered her mind, the metal receded just enough to allow the Freljord Queen to lift her free hand, slapping the Noxian across the face, hard enough to send a flurry of stars dancing around her field of vision. Katarina tensed instinctively and automatically moved to attack, but Ashe instantly redoubled her grip.

"Don't even think about it," she growled in warning.

The instinctual urge to kill faded, but Katarina remained on high alert. "Am I really the one you're mad at?"

Ashe remained silent for several long moments, but her grip did not slacken.

"Why did you let me live?" she finally asked.

The words twisted knots in Katarina's stomach. "What are you talking about?"

"In the battle. Right before you attacked Renekton," she spoke urgently, her face searching the Noxian's. "You had me. You could have ended it right there."

"You were too fast," she insisted.

"That's a lie."

"I'm complimenting your quick reactions," Katarina's voice rang heavily as her glare intensified. "I suggest you take it."

More silence.

"You couldn't kill me."

"Bullshit!" Katarina made a sudden, fruitless jerk against Ashe's hold.

The Frost Archer shook her head and tightened her grip. "You had a full two seconds and you couldn't kill me."

"That's not –"

"Why?" Ashe's face was directly in front of hers, icy gaze burning holes into her skull. "Why did you throw the match?"

"I didn't throw shit!" she hissed.

"And why have you been visiting me?"

"I told you, I'm on probation."

Ashe's eyebrows shot up. "Oh? And is that how you're meant to help the patients? By attacking them with knives?" Her voice was rising, and she was beginning to shake when she spoke. "I don't know what shit you're trying to pull, Katarina Du Couteau, but I'm not putting up with it."

Katarina's expression turned incredulous. "What _I'm _trying to pull?"

"You've ruined everything!"

"Have I?"

The knife blade lowered just slightly. "Do you realize what's going to happen when word of all this travels north? When my people hear that their king is locked in the Institute's prisons?"

Katarina pretended to think for a moment. "No. Should I?"

Ashe grit her teeth in frustration, losing whatever remained of her usual cold, measured composure. "The Barbarians are going to revolt. They'll turn against me, against the tribes, because they'll think that I've betrayed them. Tryndamere's imprisonment is the worst kind of insult in their eyes!"

The two remained in tense silence, Ashe's words hanging heavily in the air. Finally, the corners of Katarina's mouth twitched into a gentle smirk. "And good riddance."

Two things happened at once. First, the knife slipped from the archer's fingers, clattering to the floor. Immediately after, an icy hand slipped around Katarina's throat and squeezed once, tightly. The Noxian tensed and once again reigned in the urge to kill. Some logical part of her that had spent countless hours studying the eyes of torture victims told her that this woman was not capable of taking her life.

Regardless, the Freljord Queen's anger persisted. "Let me get one thing clear, Noxian." The Frost Archer's fingers twitched slightly as she spoke, but did not loosen. "I would do _anything _for my people."

"Why do you think you need him?" Katarina's words were strained, but she still managed to force them out.

Ashe's eyes seemed to search hers again, and she loosened her grip ever so slightly. "Because of you."

"What?"

"Noxus. Demacia. Piltover. All strong city-states. All composed of citizens united under their own common goals." Ashe's words were heavy with emotions that Katarina could not identify. "And Freljord? Fractured. Always at war with itself. We have enough potential enemies in the rest of you, and still we kill each other." Her tone was tinted with well-concealed sorrow. "It must not be. I've made it clear that my main goal is and always will be the union of my people. Freljord will not live in the shadows cast by the rest of you."

Determination mingled with the anger on her face, and Katarina felt the success of her plan. Here was the side of Ashe that few saw, the side that was never allowed out. What was more, she felt the woman's unwavering loyalty and love for her land in every word she spoke. _There _was something she could understand.

Still, it would have all been much nicer if she could breathe.

She slowly shook her head back and forth, indicating discomfort, and Ashe again loosened her grip, just enough to easily let air in. The assassin took a moment to recover from the tight hold before speaking again.

"Your efforts are pointless. Valoran is in peacetime."

It was Ashe's turn to smirk. "You, of all people, should know that this won't last."

Her words sent icy shivers down Katarina's spine, and under Ashe's cold gaze, she found herself wondering if the archer knew what she was concealing. This wasn't the plan. _Can't let her get too far off course._

"Whether it does or not is irrelevant," she argued, "if your choice of allies is so poor."

Another heated flare. The cold fingers around her neck twitched. "The Barbarians are good people," growled Ashe, "and allies that I fully intend to keep. The political situation is tense and a split will be disastrous. Which is why I can't forgive you."

_Shit. _

"And why are you so angry at _me_?" asked Katarina, knowing that she was rapidly approaching some hidden limit within the other woman, "as if I was the man who put you through all of this."

Ashe seemed to recoil from her words. "I told you –"

"Protecting your people. I can understand that. Letting that idiot barbarian rule your land? Rule _you_?" The words came out as an accusation, and Ashe's face twisted into a look that was almost pained. Katarina paused, carefully examining the other woman for a moment.

Her eyes widened as she understood.

"You're not angry at me at all."

The look faded instantly, replaced with the anger. "That's not what I –"

"_No._" The word came out with force, and Katarina ripped her wrist from the archer's hold and twisted her body, flipping the two of them around so that Katarina was the one pinning Ashe to the wall. "You're angry at _him. _I knew that - it's why I'm here, to get you to admit it. But I just figured it out – you wanted me to tell."

"What are you –"

"You needed help, and you fucking knew it," the Noxian insisted. "That's why you stuck around. You wanted to get the hell out, and you had no idea how, because you're oh-so-noble, you're willing to sacrifice your own fucking body just to do what you think you have to. But you knew that I knew, didn't you?"

Ashe did not respond.

"You saw it. I know you did," Katarina continued. "Maybe you didn't even realize what you were doing. But some part of you wanted out."

"You're wrong."

"Bullshit. You needed an exit and felt cornered. You couldn't bring yourself to tell anyone else. No…that would be a betrayal in your mind, wouldn't it?"

Ashe tried to look away, but the Noxian followed her gaze. "Look at me. You know it's true. I knew what he was doing and you recognized that. You could have cast me away, and that would have been that, but you didn't."

"Let me go."

"Admit that I'm right."

"_LET ME GO. RIGHT NOW." _In a single violent shove, Ashe threw the Noxian across the room, sending her crashing into the side table. Katarina barely even felt the pain, her eyes locking onto Ashe's murderous gaze.

"I wish I could _kill you_!" She roared, her hands balling into fists.

"Me, or him?" asked Katarina.

"_Both of you!_"

Katarina slowly stood up, ignoring the shooting pain in her back where she had collided with the corner of the table, as well as the angry throbbing in her broken wrist.

"You know why I attacked you today?" she asked, carefully stepping closer to the archer, as if she were a desperate, cornered animal that would strike at any moment. In a way, she was. "You're so _angry. _Furious. Murderous. But who would ever know? The ice-cold Freljord Queen doesn't feel anger, does she?" She paused right in front of the woman, but did not touch her. "Trapped for that long – you're ready to murder him. But you fucking _repressed _it. That's something you just never do."

Ashe's balled fists started shaking at her sides.

"You're finding that out pretty quickly."

Without warning, Ashe lurched forward – not at Katarina, as the assassin originally thought, but at the bed, where she landed in an animalistic crouch and began furiously beating the pillow. Katarina watched the spectacle with a hint of amusement. The look was cut short when, over the enraged shouts of the Frost Archer, the Noxian heard the sound of the door click behind her, snapping her into full alert once again.

Immediately, the assassin turned on her heel, face-to-face with a very bewildered Soraka. Before the healer could properly register what was going on, Katarina closed the distance and threw her weight against the door, slamming it shut in the Ionian's face.

Ashe continued beating the pillow, oblivious, as shouts came from the other side of the door that Katarina continued to hold shut.

"What's going on in there!?"

Katarina could think of nothing to say that would explain the odd situation, and so she remained quiet as the healer pounded on the door in time to Ashe's own furious punches.

"Open this door!"

Katarina swore under her breath as she felt a particularly rough punch against the wood beneath her left shoulder. Suddenly, the voice was no longer Soraka's.

"_Let us in!_"

The words were deep and filled with a cold fury, punctuated with a single, definitive _thud _that splintered the wood of the door and sent Katarina flying. She was caught mid-air by a rough grip around her one good wrist as it arrested her movement, shoving her against a deceptively strong body. Cold steel found its way to her throat.

"What's going on here!?" demanded Grímnir, holding Katarina firmly in place as his eyes moved to take in the bizarre scene, landing at last on Ashe's crazed, animalistic figure.

The sound of his voice seemed to break through to her, and she finally halted her relentless attack on the pillow.

"_Get out!_" she screamed, her voice some horrible deformation of her usual commanding tone, dripping with malice as her eyes narrowed on the intruders.

"My queen –" Grímnir began, but was instantly cut off by another scream. Soraka backed out of the room without question, and the summoner began to follow suit, keeping his blade hovering an inch from Katarina's throat. The assassin slowly reached behind her back and held her broken wrist in her one good hand, feeling the limb again throb with protest at her mistreatment. Slowly, she raised her head – careful not to disturb the blade – and met Ashe's cold eyes, which were burrowing into her own.

"_Release her!_" she commanded in the same voice. As if her words were a spell, the knife disappeared. Katarina did not move, her eyes locked onto Ashe's as the summoner behind her reluctantly left the room.

Silence filled the room as the two regarded each other – Katarina with a deceptively calm assurance, and Ashe with a hint of the rage she had just expressed hanging thick on the air. Her chest heaved as she gradually caught her breath, streaks of pale white hair clinging to her forehead.

"Why did you do this?" she finally asked, cutting through the silence of the room.

Katarina rubbed her wrist absently as she spoke. "I told you. You needed to release your anger –"

"I understand that," interrupted Ashe, "but _why?_ Why even bother?"

Katarina thought of Swain in that moment, of the letters she'd received, but she said nothing.

"Get out," ordered the Frost Archer after a long moment of silence.

Katarina waited a full minute before she turned away from the woman on the bed.

"...But come back tomorrow," she finished softly, and the assassin only nodded in response as she stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind her.

She was not surprised to find Grímnir and Soraka staring at her sternly.

"What do you think you're doing?" the man demanded roughly, glaring at her with distrust.

"Helping her," replied Katarina, her eyes traveling towards Soraka as the healer spoke up.

"I saw your knives in there," she began, "you know the rules."

The Noxian nodded slowly. "You have my permission to remove them. Later, though. The Frost Archer needs rest."

"I'm far more concerned with how they ended up there in the first place," interjected Grímnir.

Katarina stood stoically, her eyes flicking between the two imposing figures, betraying no hint of intimidation. "I brought them, naturally."

Grímnir's natural composure was very rapidly breaking. "And what possessed you to do that?"

"You should believe me when I tell you that I'm helping her."

"And why should I?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest. "You've brought illegal weapons into the room of the vulnerable monarch of a foreign city-state and clearly caused her much disturbance. Given your history and your ranking in the Noxian military, I see absolutely no reason to trust your words."

Katarina crossed her arms as well, mirroring his stance and expression. "I seem to recall _you _being the one she sent from the room, not me."

Just as Katarina began wondering whether they'd be locked in a staring contest forever, she felt a familiar stirring in her mind, and tensed instinctively.

_I never said you could do that, _she growled in warning.

_Strange words, from a woman who wants me to trust her, _countered Grímnir as he began sifting through memories.

Katarina grit her teeth against his inspection and quickly shoved him out with a force that surprised even herself. _My words are truth; my thoughts are my own. _

_Don't think I haven't seen it already, _replied the summoner darkly, his expression turning back to stone.

Katarina's eyebrow twitched in confusion at his strange words. _What are you talking about? _

_The League understands you far better than you understand your own self, Du Couteau, _he replied cryptically, _we see what you do not acknowledge. _

Whatever thought the Noxian had been about to throw back at him died as he turned away from her with finality. "She speaks the truth. Allow her to continue her probation unhindered."

Soraka, who had been watching the silent exchange with well-concealed curiosity, stared at the summoner with surprise that was not so well-concealed. "Are you certain that she –"

"Yes."

The word held so much weight that even the healer seemed to forget whatever she had been about to say, cast one more exasperated glance at the assassin, and quickly went to follow him as he began down the hallway.

Katarina fell back against the wall, pressing a hand to her forehead. As she did so, she felt the presence in her head again, and tensed instinctively before realizing that it was not meant to be invasive.

_Remember what I have done for you, Katarina Du Couteau, after the ice breaks. _

The assassin gave a sharp, involuntary shudder, nearly collapsing under the weight of his words. Though she could not understand them, they struck her harder than any weapon.

_Day 6_

The next morning started out very unusually - with a loud knock on the door.

The sound was so unusual, in fact, that the Frost Archer sat up and stared at the door for a full ten seconds before replying with, "Since when do you knock?"

Katarina took that as a "come in," and entered with a plate of food, which she immediately brought to the table beside the bed. Her only answer to the question was a gentle shrug.

"Don't tell me you're actually concerned for my well-being."

_Would I be here if I wasn't? _thought Katarina briefly, but out loud she said, "No, that would be ridiculous," in a voice completely devoid of pleasantness.

Something in Ashe's expression told her that she wasn't fooled, but she let the matter slide. "This is going to sound strange," she began, adopting a manner of speaking that was dignified and yet somehow still casual. "But I want to thank you."

"It doesn't," replied Katarina.

A long moment of silence filled the room, and the assassin stood next to the table, staring absently at the plate of food.

"I wasn't going to tell you this," said Ashe softly, and the other woman rose her head in curiosity. "Do you remember that night in Gragas's bar?"

The Noxian's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You didn't..." She turned to meet the archer's gaze.

"Eigile was overhead. He noticed you. I didn't realize until later - he's my hawk," she added for clarification as she noticed Katarina's look of bewilderment. "What you said last night was, in some way, true. I did know that you saw him for who he was. I also - mistakenly - believed you would not tell..." here she tilted her head, searching the Noxian's face. "You surprised me. I thought I understood you, in that respect."

"Yet you sought me out," said Katarina, unnerved by the way Ashe was scrutinizing her and wanting to change the subject.

"That I...can't explain," she confessed. "You may have been right there as well. But...I won't acknowledge it." Ashe dropped her gaze and her cheeks seemed to color, just slightly. "Also I...take back what I said. About you being like him."

Silence.

"No, you're right," said Katarina. "Violence is all I know. Although I'd appreciate it if you could refrain from comparing the two of us."

Ashe was shaking her head before the other woman had finished speaking. "The fact that you're even standing here, having this conversation with me, proves your difference."

The assassin scoffed and folded her arms.

"Oh, stop it," said Ashe, reaching out and taking Katarina's good wrist in her hand, contact that sent pleasant rays of cold down the Noxian's arm. "I may not have completely figured you out yet, but I do know there's more to you than anger."

"Not very much," answered the assassin, pointedly ignoring the physical contact.

"Like it or not, Katarina, you care. I'm not sure why, but you do."

Katarina felt the rising discomfort again, and it increased exponentially when she heard the other woman speak her name with a hint of fondness to it. No one spoke to her like that, and she visibly fidgeted, agitated by the contact. Why was Ashe bothering to speak to her? And why was she listening?

"Yesterday, you helped me release my anger," said Ashe. "I want to help _you_ see that anger doesn't have to control you."

The eyes were on her again, searching, looking for something. Gods, those eyes. How did anyone have eyes like that? How could she look at her and know so much?

Why would she even try?

"You can stop doing that, because you're not going to find anything," said the Noxian, pulling her wrist from the archer's grasp and heading for the door.

Ashe smiled softly and watched the other woman as she left. "I already have," she whispered, but Katarina was just too far away to hear.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: A note about lore changes, (particularly those regarding Freljordian politics) because they happened again and I'm not entirely sure what exactly is no longer canon, but I'm mostly deferring to the old version of the lore and will incorporate what I can in regards to new information.**

****Again, thank you so much to everyone for being patient and reviewing and just being awesome. And a big thanks to AerithRayne for beta-reading this chapter for me!****

Chapter 12: Shattered

_ Something is wrong._

Katarina's eyes shot open to total darkness. She was on high alert, her eyes darting around as she tried to make sense of her surroundings, feeling the reassuring weight of a blade in her closed fist. The darkness was not what had unnerved her – though it had certainly been disorienting - nor had it been the realization that she had no idea where she was. Though her location, or seeming lack thereof, was highly disconcerting, she knew her instincts well enough to know that something else had tipped her off and woken her senses.

_Something is VERY wrong._

She turned her head to look around, but there was nothing to look at. The darkness was so complete that she questioned, for just a moment, whether her eyes were even open. She held her blade out into the darkness, feeling for anything solid, but, once again, found nothing.

_There is nothing._

Nothing except for the knife in her fist. She clung to the feeling of cold steel with all that she was, as if afraid that the familiar weight could fade at any instant. Everything in the world she could do without, but she had never gone without a knife in her hand.

As Katarina stared into the darkness where she knew her hand to be, she became aware of the outline of its shape. A dim light was beginning to spread, but she could not detect its source.

_…There is nothing but the knife._

The blade was stained crimson. Her knuckles stood out, stark white against the red of the hilt. Her hand shook. Panic gripped her as she slowly returned to herself – blind, horrified panic, the kind of emotion she had worked long, tireless years to eradicate.

Her wide eyes moved to her feet, where a puddle was forming around the body on the floor.

"Katarina."

There were others around her, but she did not hear them, did not acknowledge the tone in her father's voice, a shocked fondness that she would never have a chance to hear again.

"What happened?" asked another, somewhere off to her right, and it registered because, in her mind, she was asking the same question over and over again.

The body at her feet moved and she stopped trying to contain her urge to scream, but the man who had touched the corpse immediately retreated at the sound, ducking low and holding his hand out as if she were a frightened animal.

"He's Ionian," said the man – a young Noxian soldier, who looked as though he was fresh out of the Academy.

Marcus Du Couteau's eyes never left his daughter. "And who let an Ionian assassin this far into the city?"

The soldier stiffened and turned away from Katarina. "Sir –"

"An untrained child just killed a man that your entire guard could not detect."

The man seemed at a loss for words. "I didn't…that is, we never received any reports…"

The general still did not look at him, even as he spoke. "I will deal with you another time. Step away from my daughter."

The man blended into the background, and at the movement, Katarina's eyes finally rose to meet those of her father.

His eyes were cold and calculating as he considered the petrified girl in front of him. They fell eventually to the knife – to the crude, ineffectual hold she had on the weapon. When his gaze traveled to the corpse and landed on the horrific, uncontrolled gashes around his neck, he snorted, as if in amusement.

"Had I any doubts before, Katarina, I certainly do not have them anymore." As he spoke, his face began to change. His skin darkened and his eyes shrank back into his head, turning a deep crimson that stood out against his black face.

Katarina watched the transformation, too horrified to move as his mouth disappeared and the end of sentence was punctuated with a guttural "_squawk._"

"F-father?" she stammered as the man-sized raven stared back at her, its gaze boring into hers, as if accusing her.

_"Squawk!"_

Katarina's eyes flew open to meet Beatrice's.

"Stupid _bird!_" she shrieked, hastily swiping at the creature, who leaped away in a flurry of feathers just before her fingers could make contact with her throat. The raven touched down on the window sill, where an unusually large scroll sat waiting for her.

The assassin disregarded the scroll for the moment, lifting her fingers to her face. In the dim light, she could visibly detect their shaking.

Furious, the Sinister Blade balled her hands into fists and flew out of the bed, startling Beatrice, who shot across the room to perch on the top of her dresser.

"What the hell does he want?" she shouted to no one in particular. The general usually liked to keep his instructions short. Katarina ripped the seal open and held the letter out into a beam of moonlight.

She scanned the letter briefly, cursing his long, meandering sentiments before something caught her eye and brought her wide eyes back to the top of the page.

_Katarina,_

_I must confess that, through all of the years of your youth, as I watched you grow, I hardly dared to hope that we would ever reach this exact moment in history. All of those years gave me enough knowledge of you to understand that much of what I write in this letter will mean very little to you at present, and that, even as you read this sentence, I am already trying your patience._

_Bear with me. I am an old man, very much accustomed to my ways, and you must indulge me for just a bit longer. _

_The news I am about to impart to you will surely reach the ears of the Institute before too long, but Beatrice flies far faster than any messenger. If this letter has reached your hands, it means that I have achieved the title of Grand General._

_I have kept much of my plan largely hidden prior to this point, and therefore, this change may come as a shock to you._

_However, from this moment on, I no longer have reasons to conceal my motives. This letter is primarily to explain my vision. From this position, I can finally enact the entirety of my plan, first discussed before the council. And you, as promised, have a key role to play._

_Noxus has lost sight of its purpose. I have believed this since I was young, and it rings especially true today. I know for a fact that you agree with me; you have vocalized your frustrations in council enough to get that message across. Meetings are full of old men squabbling, too lost, too buried in their hatred of Demacia to keep focus on that which really matters. Power. Today, we sit in our cage, bound by the constraints of the League, watching our enemies thrive in peacetime. Noxian Imperialism was once a force to be reckoned with. I would see it resurrected._

_However, my words to the council still ring true. We cannot simply go charging into a confrontation that we are not fully prepared to face, particularly at this stage. We needed to prepare. So we gathered information, sought weak spots. And this is where you come in. Below is a list of orders you are to issue to those below you. I cannot stress enough, it is imperative that, whatever happens tonight, these orders must be carried out. You'll notice that I'm recalling all but you and your sister to Noxus. I cannot reveal my reasons at this time…_

Katarina let out a frustrated sigh. _So much for "no longer having reasons to conceal his motives." _

…_but I assure you, any questions will be answered after your task is completed. The time has come to sever our ties with the League. I realize this is sooner than projected, but we find ourselves with a perfect opportunity that is not to be squandered._

_I am not sure how aware you are of the consequences of your actions, but I assure you, you have done quite a bit of damage to an already tense political climate. I must commend you on your quick thinking. You asked me why I chose you over Talon, and this is precisely the reason. _

_Your own orders are as follows. On the night you receive this letter, kill Ashe._

Katarina froze. No.

_She is vulnerable._

Gods, no.

_Her death will prove an excellent statement. I want your deed to be known. I want all of Valoran to know that the Sinister Blade murdered the Freljord Queen._

This wasn't happening.

_When she lies dead, seek refuge in the forests surrounding the Institute. You will certainly be followed. A vehicle will arrive for you by midday, precisely ten miles north of the Institute, and you will receive further instruction when we can speak in person._

_I know how little you are inspired by words, but I feel compelled to tell you that a bright future lies ahead of Noxus, and you are helping to pioneer that future._

_We will speak soon._

_-Grand General Jericho Swain_

Katarina scanned the last few written lines only long enough to notice that none of them had killing orders, only her. Swain had delivered on his promise. Katarina's hands began to tremble. The paper slid out of her grasp and fluttered to the ground. She watched as it fell, her eyes unable to move from the words "kill Ashe." They seemed to taunt her. The scar across her eye throbbed once, startling her out of her trance.

_No hesitation._

She would strike quickly, go for the throat before she lost her nerve. Once the Queen lay dead, she would make the body more…memorable…Swain would appreciate that.

She banished the thought, forcing her hands to remain still as she reached inside of her bottom dresser drawer. Her fingers closed around the hilt of one of her largest blades, which she removed for inspection. It was longer than her arm and perfectly straight, its midnight-black metal gleaming in the dim light. Near the tip, an elegant but vicious hook jutted out. The blade was simple, but its style was prominently Noxian. If the long, barbed weapon didn't send the message, nothing would. Her eyes moved to the twisted, horned creature that comprised the guard and imagined the beast protruding from the Frost Archer's chest. _"I want all of Valoran to know that the Sinister Blade murdered the Freljord Queen."_

Had word reached Swain of Katarina's failure in the tournament? Was he aware of her moment of hesitation, the instant that had lost Noxus the tournament? Paranoia consumed her. It had been just a fleeting second. Whispers were made, but no one knew the truth. No one knew that the Sinister Blade had experienced, just for a moment, a sickening flicker of doubt.

_No. No! I never doubted anything! _Angrily, Katarina threw a punch at the wall, unflinching as her fist made direct contact with stone. Her entire arm reverberated, including her abused wrist, which screamed in protest. She may or may not have heard a knuckle crack.

Ashe was to die by her hand. Not on the Fields, but in reality. And if that was to happen, she could not allow herself to dwell on her one moment of weakness.

_Nothing happened._

Slowly, she pulled her fist from the wall, examining the impact, willing the pain to distract her. At least now she could dismiss her trembling fingers for tangible pain. That she could understand. Cursing herself, she removed a roll of bandages from her drawer and began to wrap the knuckles, working methodically.

_I have to move. It must be soon. _

The roll slipped from her fingers and her hands rose to cover her face.

_Do not hold back! Fight! Fight with everything you are! _Her father's angry voice rang in her head, sounding thousands of miles away. Her scar throbbed again, now in time with her knuckle.

"Father," she whispered to no one. He would be ashamed, had he seen her now, had he known of her hesitation.

It was that thought that pulled her out of her reverie. Her father would not tolerate her failure. He never had.

_And I NEVER hesitated. _  
>Katarina picked up the scroll from the floor and pocketed it with shaking fingers. If this had been <em>his <em>assignment, the Freljord Queen would already be impaled, lying in a pool of her own blood. Just like the Ionian assassin.

Bile rose in her throat at the thought, but her feet began to move of their own accord, leading her into the hallway. None of the few whom she passed thought anything of the sight of a famed Noxian assassin moving with absent steps towards the hospital, weapons drawn in plain sight. She was Katarina. She was the Sinister Blade. It was almost normal.

Until…

"Katarina."

For one sickening moment, she heard the voice of her father from all of those years ago as he stood before her and the dead Ionian. She froze mid-step as her brain caught up with her.

"Grímnir."

The summoner stepped in front of her field of vision and lowered his hood, revealing his long, well-kept blonde hair and eyes that shown as blue as those of the Freljord Queen. "You should be in bed," he scolded, "you have an early morning, as usual."

The Sinister Blade said nothing, afraid that her voice would quiver and reveal her intentions.

"…But instead, you choose to wander the halls barefoot, with drawn weapons, while on probation."

_Stupid, _she scolded herself, ignoring the part of her that had wanted to be caught.

"Is everything alright?" he asked as she continued to stand in silence, her face betraying nothing. Before she could answer, she felt the familiar force of a foreign mind entering her own, breaking her spell of stoicism.

_No! _She reacted quickly, fighting against his stern gaze, struggling to find an answer. In a split-second decision, she filled her mind with images of her dream instead of the Frost Archer. She took him through the darkness, showed him the man at her feet and her shock, her father's hungry look and gruesome transformation.

Grímnir's face showed mild surprise and a small amount of sympathy as Katarina severed the link and expelled him from her mind.

"Is there something you wish to discuss, Sinister Blade?" his voice betrayed mild concern, but certainly not the anger she was expecting. She shook her head once, dismissively, and pushed past him.

"I just want to practice," she growled. Instead of continuing towards the hospital, she made a point of turning towards to the training room.

"I am aware of the conditions of every champion's entrance to the League," called Grímnir to her retreating figure, "and yours are no exception. We are here to help you, Sinister Blade, and I for one do not care if you are Noxian."

The last phrase stopped her in her tracks, but she did not turn to face him. Did he know? "Maybe you should."

"The distinctions of city-state are, to me, obsolete in peacetime. We are all of Valoran, and we are all here to ensure that it stays that way."

After a moment, Katarina again moved towards the training room, and the summoner made no attempts to follow her.

When she was sure that she was well out of sight and earshot, she turned back around and took a long route to the hospital.

The entrance was empty, which was odd. Usually a healer or two would be patrolling, even at this hour. But there was no one to notice Katarina, no one to take in the faraway gaze or the barbed blade in her hand, no one to stop and question her.

It was fate. It had to be.

Her grip tightened.

She moved down the corridor, passing the closed doors of the sick and the injured before turning into the ward that held the closed doors of the psychologically wounded. She recognized Cal's door by the incoherent babbling noises within, but she would not let herself pause. She couldn't. Not now.

Towards the end of the hallway, she stopped. Her feet had automatically led her to Ashe's door. As if in a trance, she pressed her ear to the wood and listened.

Silence.

Her hand found the doorknob, turned it, pulled her into the dark room. She stopped halfway to the bed, gripping her hilt tighter, letting her eyes adjust to reveal the sleeping woman.

Ashe was restless, agitated – her sleep had clearly been invaded by nightmares, as well. Her sheet had twisted around her body and she made soft noises of fear as she twitched on the bed. As Katarina watched, the other woman turned her head so that her face fell into a pool of moonlight, revealing a tightly creased brow, a grimace of pain.

The Noxian swallowed past the lump in her throat. Watching her was a mistake. Still, she made no attempt to move closer. Another minute passed before the Frost Archer began to relax, smoothing the lines on her face. Her fist unclenched, releasing the sheets that twisted around her.

"Katarina…" she whispered, so softly the Noxian almost did not hear. Still, the sound of her name shocked the assassin's unquiet mind into brief stillness. She closed the distance between them, coming to a halt at the woman's bedside, the blade still clutched tightly at her side. Had she really spoken her name, or was Katarina's imagination betraying her? She waited, but no more words fell from Ashe's lips. Her fidgeting ceased and she slept peacefully.

_Kill her, _commanded a voice inside of her. She could no longer distinguish whether the voice belonged to Swain, her father, Raina, or herself.

She bit down on her lip and forced the teleportation. The next instant found her on the bed, straddling the Frost Archer's waist, thrusting the barbed tip of her blade towards the hollow of Ashe's throat. Her arm froze halfway through the motion, metal hovering a mere breath above skin when a pair of cold eyes shot open in fright.

The archer gave a small gasp as she saw the blade, her eyes rising to meet its owner.

_Kill her! _Katarina commanded herself. Another half-inch and Ashe's life would be hers. Both women had turned into statues, holding each other's gazes. The Noxian watched the stream of emotion pass uncensored through Ashe's eyes. Confusion gave way to shock, betrayal, fear…anguish. Her expression twisted into one of pain, as if the assassin had already wounded her.

"K-Katarina…" her voice broke, and whatever else she had been about to say died on her lips, leaving the name hanging in the air between them. It echoed in Katarina's ears, louder than her own commands. Her will was breaking. She became aware of this fact as soon as she felt Ashe's body trembling beneath hers. Her eyes passed over the blade, which shook as well.

No, Ashe wasn't the one trembling.

"Fuck…" Katarina forced her eyes shut, rage consuming her as the knife slid from her fingers and off the bed, clattering to the floor.

_I've failed._

She wanted to scream, to wrap her hands around someone's neck and squeeze until their life slipped away. It didn't matter who. Tryndamere, Renekton, Grímnir, Swain…anyone. Anyone but Ashe.

Her disgust with herself began to rise, consuming all else. She threw herself off of the other woman immediately, clinging to the wall opposite her, desperate for space between herself and the terrified blue eyes. Sickening thoughts swirled in her head, of corpses and flashing blades, sharp reprimands and a sickening throb behind her left eye.

"Was that another trick?" asked the Frost Archer softly, eying the Sinister Blade with wariness.

"Shut up."

"Why did you –"

"_I said SHUT UP!_" she barked in a voice that could make even a queen flinch and obey. "I need to _think!_"

Her head was clamoring with noise, screaming at her to kill Ashe and begging her not to, cursing her hesitation and praising her for it, denouncing her as a traitor and pulling her attention back to the figure that was now slowly standing from the bed and approaching her.

"Stay away," she said quickly, but Ashe shook her head and stepped closer.

"You taught me a lesson," she whispered, "now I'm going to teach you one."

"Back up!" she yelled, pressing further against the wall.

She ignored her, closing the distance between them and placing her hand on Katarina's cheek at the same time. Only then did the assassin detect a strange wetness on her face. She flinched at the contact but did not turn away, the initial shiver from the coolness of her touch traveling the entire length of her body. "You do not have to be angry."

Despite her words, Katarina could feel heat rising to her face.

"You do not need to kill."

Her fingers twitched in defiance.

"You are more than just _violence_."

In her mind, Katarina replayed every scene in the Academy that said otherwise, every exercise and training they put her through, all to craft a weapon.

"You answer to yourself, above all else."

_I am the Sinister Blade. Noxus' Sinister Blade. _

"Allow yourself more than your rage." The thumb at her cheek absently brushed away a tear.

Why had she hesitated? Why was she still hesitating? Why could she not close the distance right now?

"You're afraid." Cool breath fanned across the Noxian's heated face as she spoke.

There had to be a reason. Gods, there had to be a reason why.

"Don't be."

Katarina wasn't aware of movement. The moment passed suddenly, and, unlike when she had held the knife, she didn't hesitate for an instant as her burning lips crushed against Ashe's cold ones. There was no thought, not even when Ashe responded as if the action was perfectly natural, her hand moving to tangle in the Noxian's hair, her body tightening sharply. Katarina's own hands gripped the archer's waist in an iron grip, pulling her in closer.

The kiss quickly deepened, becoming urgent, and then breaking briefly as the assassin felt a surge of released tension. She spun Ashe around, slamming her roughly against the wall before reconnecting their lips, cutting off the deep groan the other woman had released as she very quickly caught her breath.

The assassin's body pressed tightly against the archer's, as if to hold her in place as her hands traveled slowly up the length of her sides. They separated again, a soft moan slipping unchallenged through Katarina's lips, her chest heaving as emerald eyes met sapphire.

"Gods, it's better than I imagined," whispered Ashe breathlessly, kissing the woman with a desperation all her own. The feeling proved infectious, and Katarina's fists clutched at the thin hospital top. After a few tugs, the archer's head fell back in acquiescence. The flimsy shirt was no match for Katarina's dexterous fingers, and the cloth shredded in her hands before finding more deliciously smooth, cool skin.

As her fingers quickly explored, her eyes slid open, falling to the shaft of pale moonlight that fell across Ashe's body .

She froze.

_Oh gods. _

The snow white skin of her torso was marred, covered in bruises in various shades and stages of healing. And suddenly the reality of what she was doing hit her. Ashe was an abuse victim. Ashe was the queen of Freljord. Ashe was the one she was supposed to kill. Ashe was in mortal danger. Ashe was _a woman._

She was across the room in a puff of smoke before Ashe could even finish opening her eyes.

"You need to get out of here," said Katarina, her voice stern but breaking.

Ashe's eyes cooled slowly as her arms quickly rose to cover her exposed chest, but her expression was bewildered. "Katarina, I…"

"No, there's no time for this!" The assassin shook her head, agitated. "If you stay here, you could be killed."

"But you –"

"_GO!_" she roared. "Get everything you need right now and get away from the League." Katarina turned away from the bruised woman.

She heard silence behind her for a moment, then footsteps. A cold hand touched her wrist, but she shook off the touch.

"Look at me."

The Sinister Blade did not move. "I tried to kill you."

Ashe shook her head. "You did not attack me with the intent to kill me."

"I did!" she yelled.

"No. Or we both know that I wouldn't be here right now."

"God damn it, Ashe," she growled, "what would you do if you had to kill me for Freljord? What then?"

There was a long pause before Ashe spoke again, with so much conviction that Katarina felt her heart drop into her stomach, "Under that condition, Freljord would not be a place I would want to rule."

There was no answer she could give but one. "You need to get somewhere safe."

After another long moment of silence, the footsteps retreated, paused, and then the assassin heard the rustling of clothing, then nothing for a long while. She could feel Ashe's eyes on her, but she closed her own and made no movement.

After a moment, the footsteps left.

Katarina waited five entire minutes before allowing her legs to collapse beneath her, disturbing the knife from where it had fallen and sending it across the floor and into the metal bedpost.

_Clang._

"Ashe," she whispered to herself, feeling her thoughts numb to all else.

* * *

><p>Katarina could not allow herself to think about what she had done – not tonight, not with so much still to do, plans to salvage. She moved through the halls quickly, sticking to the shadows, wary of any more unexpected stops, but she saw no faces at this hour.<p>

Her lips were still slightly chilled. She could not think about that.

She arrived at the Noxian wing and tensed further, but she could not think about her betrayal, either. She slid inside Talon's door without even knocking.

"Get up," she said to the dark room, and after a few confused murmurs, light revealed the man in his bed. When he saw her, he sat straight up at attention.

"Sinister Blade –"

"Save it," she cut off, pulling Swain's scroll from her pocket. "Listen to me. You are to report to Noxus immediately. Take everything you have and get away from the Institute before sunrise."

Talon's brow furrowed. "With all due respect, Sinister Blade, you do not have the authority to order me from the Institute."

Katarina grit her teeth at his insolence, but technically, he was correct. "No. But the Grand General sure does." She ripped off the bottom of the scroll with Swain's lines of orders and showed them to Talon. Next to the words, an ornate crimson seal filled the rest of the page.

Talon showed no surprise, merely nodding in understanding. Katarina motioned for him to take the paper. "Give the orders here; show anyone the seal if they question it. I will speak to my sister. Do not let anyone see you leave, particularly summoners or enemy champions."

"_Enemy_ champions, Sinister Blade? Are we at war?"

"Dismissed."

With that, the assassin closed the door and silently moved to her sister's room, again entering without knocking.

"It's four in the morning."

Katarina tensed at the voice, and turned around just as her sister flicked a light on.

"Apparently, I didn't wake you up," she countered.

Cassiopeia smirked. "I don't sleep quite like I used to," she said, "but that doesn't change the fact that it's four in the morning."

"You are on standby."

The serpent woman's eyebrows shot up. "And why is that?"

"You are to remain in the vicinity of the Institute, but not to reveal yourself to anyone. There was a reference to some sort of pipe system in the walls - you are to stay there until further notice. Orders of Grand General Swain."

Cassiopeia did not hide her surprise. "My, he's been busy. But what am I on standby for?"

Katarina felt her heart accelerate. Swain's orders would need to be altered slightly. "Any fallout from the mass exodus of Noxian champions from within the Institute's walls."

Her sister gave a humorless laugh that was filled with an eerie hissing noise. "Funny, that's not Swain's style," she mused. "I know him well. He would want to leave more of an… impression." She turned back to her sister and her eyes narrowed. "Why did you leave your room earlier this evening?"

Katarina's blood ran cold, but she disguised her shock well. "I was receiving his orders. He's not at the Institute."

"Oh, I know about that," said Cassiopeia, flicking her wrist dismissively. "I hear you squabbling with that damn bird every night, and I saw which direction she flies in. In fact, I heard it earlier in your room, so you left for another reason, and I would like to hear it."

The assassin clenched her jaw. "That's classified."

"Don't you dare pull rank on me."

"You are required by law to follow my orders and defer to my judgment, Cassiopeia, and if you fail to do so I could make your life very difficult."

Her sister gave another hissing laugh. "No more difficult than it already is. How about you tell me about the wonderful show Swain gave you. I know you were itching for some action around here, and after seeing you go after the crocodile, I'm sure you could use another target to reduce to ribbons, so please, enlighten me."

Katarina said nothing.

"Oh come on, _sisss_," she whispered, turning the term of endearment into a slow, deadly hiss. "I want to hear about the bodies you made, since that's what your good for."

"I didn't kill anyone, Cass."

"No?" she sighed, sounding disappointed. "And I do _so _enjoy your work…though not like Swain does. I'm surprised he didn't give you a target…the little Freljordian playing queen, for example."

Katarina forced herself not to react. "You have received your orders. Await any further instruction." She turned to leave, but her hand fell on the scaled tail that was tightly gripping the doorknob instead.

"There is a reason I want to know. Do you understand? I need to know what he's planning, as surely as you are standing here, trying to piece it together."

There was a long pause while Katarina struggled with how much to reveal.

"I was ordered to make an assassination. The target fled in the night and left no trail for me to follow."

"Scared them off? You?"

Katarina sighed and closed her eyes, willing herself to remain calm. "The target had reasons for leaving the Institute, possible motives, people to get away from, so an absence – although unexpected – can hardly be considered surprising." She recited the words she had been constructing to repeat in her note to Swain.

To her immense relief, Cassiopeia seemed to drop her failure for another pressing matter. "But you're still going ahead with all of Swain's orders, even if the assassination wasn't successful?"

"That is what I was instructed to do, yes, and yours still stand because our sudden absence will not be overlooked," stated Katarina with authority.

Instead of suspicion, Cassiopeia's face gave way to confusion. "But why? Why would he order everyone home after an assassination?"

"I was instructed to make it quite clear that I had been the murderer. It would have been a war crime, and no Noxian would have been safe here, which is why you were instructed to remain hidden. The killing was the message that he wanted to send as a warning to Demacia."

There was a long pause before Cassiopeia slowly shook her head. "But it can't be. Swain talks about this place like it's a gold mine of resources. He wouldn't use the Institute for one death, Kat. He would use it to start a war."

"Of course. He wanted the death to serve as a warning, to throw the Institute into chaos before he could declare war against Demacia. That didn't work, but I'm about to ask him what other damage I can do before I'm instructed to return –"

"Why do you think the declaration will be against Demacia?"

Katarina stared at her sister blankly. "All they do in those stupid meetings is talk about how to crush Demacia. Did you forget why we're here?"

"Did _you_?" she asked. "Swain isn't planning on attacking Demacia anytime soon, he's made that very clear."

"Explain," came the answering demand.

"Demacia has…something in production. I don't know the specifics, but it's scared Swain away from the thought of attacking them for awhile. But if he were to, say, turn his new weapons on other, lesser targets –"

_Oh gods, no. _

"What new weapons?"

"If you had let me talk about what I'd learned from Heimerdinger, you would have known this ages ago, but we managed to track down plans for some new stuff Ziggs had been developing."

"Bombs?"

"No, mittens," she sneered sarcastically. "Yes, of course, bombs."

Katarina ignored the attitude, her dread rising. "How big?"

"Big. Big enough to wipe out an entire region. Just not quite big enough to go waving at Demacia yet."

"…Then what is he doing?"

Cassiopeia looked at her intently. "Are you ready to tell me who you had to kill today?"

Katarina hesitated, but let it go. "Ashe was my target."

"The final piece of the puzzle. A smaller, weaker city-state, fractured, already at high tensions due to old tribal conflicts and, most notably, some revelations that led to their king's imprisonment and their queen's state of vulnerability…at least, until she's murdered right before the invasion begins." Cassiopeia smiled as she recited the words, as if they were poetry. "_Yessss_…much more Swain's style."

His words danced through Katarina's head. _"Noxian Imperialism was once a force to be reckoned with. I would see it resurrected."_

She had told Ashe to get somewhere safe, away from the Institute.

_She'll return to Freljord._

"I have to go," she said, swallowing past the lump in her throat. "Await further instruction and stay out of sight."

As soon as the door closed behind her, Katarina felt her gut churn, and before she could think of anything else, she bolted down the hall to her room, threw open her door, dashed into the bathroom and emptied her stomach into the toilet.

From her position on the windowsill, Beatrice squawked. The sound only made her insides constrict further.

After several minutes, the assassin pulled herself up from the floor and walked into the room, leaning against the doorframe for support, her eyes never leaving those of the perfectly composed raven.

_I could kill her right now, _she thought to herself, but she didn't.

She finally broke the stare, wandering to her desk to scribble a hasty note.

_General,_

_Orders received. Assassination unsuccessful. Target no longer at Institute, believed to have departed earlier in the night. No trail left behind. Orders given to all others. Remaining at Institute to await further instruction._

_-SB_

"Get over here," she growled, teleporting across the room to land right in front of Beatrice, whose squawk was cut off as Katarina grabbed the bird roughly and tied the small scroll to her foot before throwing her unceremoniously out the window.

Even as she watched her disappear into the clouds, she knew that she could not afford to await a reply. Unsure of what exactly that meant, she began to pace nervously, trying to decide her best course of action.

The thought of murdering another target occurred to her, and while it was tempting at first, she quickly admitted to herself that it would not help her situation. She could simply meet with her ride from Noxus and take it home, or wherever else it had been instructed to lead her, but the idea of being so firmly under Swain's control made her stomach swim again.

She was a traitor. She had been studiously ignoring that fact since giving out her orders, but she could not deny that she had disobeyed a direct order from the Grand General himself.

Her eyes fell on the Noxian crest over her bed and her frantic pacing slowed, then stopped. She imagined it, for just a moment, flying high over every building in all of Valoran. She was filled with a sense of calm and pride…until she imagined Swain standing beneath the banner, Beatrice taking up his shoulder perch, glaring down at her with a dark, sinister smile.

_I answer to Noxus above all else, but what does that mean anymore? _

With a frustrated cry, the assassin lurched forward and grabbed the banner, ripping it free of the knives that held it pinned to the wall at the corners. She balled up the cloth in her fists and threw it across the room in rage, as if removing the symbol would solve everything.

It didn't.

Katarina fell onto the bed, covering her face in her hands, catching herself before she had the chance to do anything stupid, like crying again.

_Damn it all._

She spent the next few hours loudly cursing everything and everyone she could think of, from Tryndamere, to Raina, to Grímnir, to Ashe, to Swain, but when the first few rays of sun began to peek threw her window, she stood up, making her choice.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Thanks again to AerithRayne for beta-reading this chapter for me!**

Chapter 13: Beneath the Surface

Katarina kept to the trees, leaping from branch to branch to avoid leaving a trail. The chances that she was being followed were not high, but war was breaking on the Noxian horizon, and she wasn't about to take any chances. The occasional glance at her compass kept her on course – directly north. She knew from studying a map of the Institute's surrounding terrain that exactly ten miles north of the Institute lay a small creek that could serve as an adequate landmark.

Noon was approaching, which meant that the Noxian military van would soon arrive, if it hadn't already. Her heart accelerated at the thought, but she didn't allow herself to think too deeply about what that ride would entail. Every move she made was fluid but robotic, her body on autopilot as she moved to get to the creek as fast as she could.

Another hour passed before she began to hear water in the distance, soon followed by the sight of a thin silver band that wound its way through the forest. She slowed as soon as she saw the water, flattening her body against a tree trunk and glancing around for any signs of life. When she saw none, she edged forward, silently moving to another tree, ducking low to stay concealed among the leaves. She kept moving in this manner until she was nearly at the creek's edge, at which point she glanced left, then right.

_There_.

The vehicle was well concealed, but she could make out the dark outline hidden beneath a pair of large shrubs.

After a moment of deliberation, the assassin dropped down to the creek and began casually strolling towards the hidden military vehicle. As she approached, two soldiers emerged, armed to the teeth. She greeted them with a salute, which they each returned.

"Sinister Blade. Was your mission successful?"

Katarina glanced back and forth between the two of them. "That information is for my superiors only."

The man seemed disgruntled, but didn't say anything more. His companion stepped forward, opening the rear door. "While you are technically correct, your destination will depend on the answer."

The assassin smirked, folding her arms across her chest. "If the answer is yes?"

"Classified."

"How cute. I order you to tell me where this van is going."

The first man smirked right back. "Our silence has been ordered by those who far outrank you, Sinister Blade."

"I see," she murmured, watching as the two men exchanged glances. She tried to determine the source of their defiance – did they have reason to suspect her treachery? Not enough time had passed to receive any word from Swain, or so she suspected. No, they were filled with the attitude of fresh soldiers, about to march into a confrontation that they had been assured they would win.

After a few moments of mental calculations, Katarina made her move. An instant later, she was behind the man closest to her, swinging a wicked punch at his temple that dropped him before he was even aware of movement.

"Hey!" yelled the second man, reaching for the sword strapped to his back, but Katarina recovered from her punch and dove at him, catching his wrist and twisting it viciously, earning a yelp of pain from the significantly larger soldier. The hold was painful, but he was already recovering, and before he could reach another weapon the assassin moved behind him and dropped to a crouch, plunging a dagger into the soft flesh behind his kneecap.

The man's scream sent every bird in the area to the skies.

"Let's try that again," whispered Katarina, her voice dripping with venom, "where were you ordered to take me?"

"D-Dodkjole..." stammered the man through his fear and pain as his knees buckled. Katarina let him fall, watching as he moved to grip the handle that was still embedded in his flesh.

"And what's there?" she asked while she watched him struggle to remove the knife.

"Swain…gathering forces..." his words trailed off into a series of pained noises as he pulled the blade from his knee.

"How hard is it, to just be helpful?" Katarina squatted beside him, pulling the knife from his hand and using it to cut his belt, which she deftly circled his wrists with. He attempted a vague struggle, but the assassin shoved her boot into his wound, ending his resistance. After he was subdued, she pulled his canteen from his belt and opened the cap, pouring it over the wound. The man was recovering from the initial shock, and he tried to kick her with his good leg. In response, Katarina drew a second knife and rested the tip at the back of his other knee.

"Really?" she asked.

"_What the hell is wrong with you!?_" he screamed.

"Shut up," she snapped. "If you let me treat it, you'll be fine. It didn't even go in that deep. Who the hell let you out of the Academy if you can't even take a scratch like that?"

"A _scratch?_" he exclaimed, staring at her incredulously. "More like an attack! And from _you?!" _

Katarina turned to the man, feeling a brief flash of pity for the poor soul. He was young, and though his response to the attack had been pathetic, she had caught him quite off-guard. Underlings were trained to trust their superiors, to follow orders without question, and that was all he'd done. She read the confusion in his face, the hurt at being betrayed.

_He stands between me and Ashe, _she reminded herself.

"Next time, answer my question." She punctuated her statement with a swift punch to the temple, nearly identical to the one she'd given the first man, and carefully bandaged the wound at his knee using the first aid kit in the van. After checking each man's vital signs, she nodded to herself and walked away from the two.

She entered the van. As she held the steering wheel, her hands were shaking. She gripped it tighter to make the trembling stop. There was no looking back now.

Her driving skills were certainly not wonderful, but she had a basic knowledge of military vehicles and how to operate them. After several attempts, the metal beast roared to life, and she shot out from under the bushes, turning the wheel wildly to aim north, directly between two distant mountain peaks.

As she drove, she thought bitterly of the Institute she was leaving behind and cursed the events of the morning that had brought her there.

* * *

><p><em>Several hours earlier<em>

"I need to speak to Grímnir. Immediately," insisted Katarina upon entering the Ionian hospital.

Soraka looked up from the desk in surprise. "You're early."

"Never mind that," she growled, tightening her grip on the desk top. "Where is he?"

The Starchild's expression was wary and tinted with concern. "What's so important?"

Katarina resisted the urge to respond with a curt, "none of your business." Instead, she took a brief pause and tried to compose herself. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary for the healer in front of her, which likely meant that Ashe's sudden disappearance had not yet been discovered. That made sense – Katarina was usually the first person to enter the rooms with breakfast. But it was only a matter of time before someone else noticed. "I just need to know where he is," she explained. "…Please," she added awkwardly after a moment of silence.

Soraka seemed to debate with herself for a moment. "I'm not sure, to be quite honest, but the best place to check would probably be the dungeons. He's been spending a fair amount of time down there."

Katarina raised an eyebrow, not expecting the strange response. Still, the Ionian had seemed honest enough, and the assassin nodded in acknowledgement before turning away.

"Why would a senior summoner frequent the dungeons?" she muttered to herself as she moved through the hallways, wandering distractedly, too lost in thought to even notice the strange looks she was receiving. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was aware that the Noxian disappearance would be noticed soon, as well. _There is no time to wait for Swain's instructions, _she told herself repeatedly.

As she moved, the corridors began to thin, and by the time she reached the winding stone staircase that led down into the dungeons, there wasn't a soul around. The trek took several minutes and the air gradually grew thicker as she descended in the dim light.

_Soraka had better be right about this,_ thought the assassin as she considered how long it would take to climb the same staircase again.

She finally reached the bottom and entered a small, narrow passage, which opened to reveal a high stone gate that glittered with gold symbols that seemed to emit their own light. The sight surprised Katarina, who was startled out of her own thoughts enough to take a step closer and examine the stone. The symbols were, at first, completely unrecognizable to her, but as she watched, they began to shimmer and flicker beneath her gaze. After a short moment, the thin golden loops formed words that covered the archway from the bottom left column to the bottom right.

_"Beyond this gate lay dangers fierce, _

_Though do not stand alarmed,_

_For back and forth you may traverse,_

_Protected from all harm._

_But have some caution, visitor,_

_For though you now roam free,_

_If ever sealed within these walls,_

_The sun you'll never see."_

As Katarina read the words, she felt a powerful wave of summoning magic wash over her, lending her the protections promised by the spell. The feeling was not unpleasant, but the assassin still shuddered at the unnatural feeling of summoner energy dancing across her skin. She swatted at the itches, as if the feelings were insects, but her movements had no effect until a moment later, when the spell had taken hold. With a soft sigh, she stepped through the gate.

She hadn't gone five steps before total darkness consumed her.

The change was immediate, as if all of the dim light that shone from torches on the stone walls had suddenly extinguished at once, though she had felt no breeze. Before her mind could register an enemy, two knives were in her outstretched fists.

"_What interesting nightmares you have_," came a grating, whispery voice that sounded as much like an echo inside of her own head as anything else.

The assassin forced herself not to panic, remembering the protection charm that had taken hold of her. Still, though she knew she had nothing to fear, a sliver of terror stabbed at her heart.

"_A soldier's nightmares are always…fascinating," _continued the voice. "_How wonderful it is…to see the thoughts of those who have been trained to hide their fear…even from their own selves." _Cold tendrils began to crawl across the Noxian's skin, but she could do nothing to react, unable to see anything at all in the total darkness. It reminded her of her nightmare from the previous night…

A bloodcurdling scream sounded from off to Katarina's left, and the assassin stiffened, staring off into the darkness, feeling the hairs at the back of her neck rise. The horrible sound continued for several seconds before she realized that the scream was her own, an echo from many years ago.

"Stop it!" she yelled into the black. Immediately, the screaming ceased, dropping her, quite suddenly, into total nothingness. Her ears rang quietly, unable to detect any sound at all.

An ice-cold breath fanned across the back of her neck. "_Traitor._"

Katarina threw out her dagger in a blind swipe, falling back against a rough stone wall in an attempt to put distance between herself and the whisper.

"I said _stop it, _Nocturne!" she roared, her voice ringing with an authority that was only heightened by her terror.

A chilling laugh sounded from the darkness before the oppressive wall of blackness began to lift, allowing the chamber to fill again with a dim light. Still, the shadows remained, swirling around the walls, clinging to the ceiling as if they were solid. In the very center of the room, several of the shadows converged, and from them formed a faceless silhouette that almost looked like a person. Katarina held her position against the wall, dagger raised to cover her heart, watching the figure warily.

Just when she was convinced nothing more would happen, a pair of piercing white eyes opened and stared at her from the gloom. _"Why have you come to disturb me with your fear?" _

Katarina did not lower the knife. "I need to speak with someone. I think he's down here." She had to fight to keep her voice level.

The eyes stared at her unblinkingly. "_Then you seek the summoner who passed by with his lights, to keep me away." _

Katarina could only nod her head.

"_It must be important, for you to brave these walls…it isn't often I encounter new minds to examine within this place…" _The shadows made an echoing "hum," almost as if they were thinking of something. _"Ah! I see. You fear for the life of one precious to you…oh, but she is the reason you walk with traitorous steps!" _The chilling laughter sounded again, though the most disturbing part of the noise was the fact that the eyes made no movement at all. "_Your mind is a feast, Sinister Blade; consider yourself lucky I am forbidden from harming you." _

As he spoke, the shadows on the floor in front of her receded, revealing a huge, golden circle of symbols in the stone. As Katarina watched, the scrawls again reordered themselves, only this time, the message was crushingly simple.

_Bind._

The assassin felt a sharp pain in her head as she read the word, accompanied by a sudden tightness in her chest. The mere sight of the symbol pinned her to the wall, and all at once, she felt as if she would never move, would never leave the room she now stood in. Her eyes squeezed shut to ward off the onslaught of sensation. Immediately, the feeling passed, replaced only with confusion.

Nocturne must have sensed something. "_Summoning magic is more complex than most realize…yet the spell that holds me here is not dissimilar from the spell that prevents you from being attacked, which is not dissimilar from the spell used to bring you to the Fields of Justice. Restricting movement, enhancing movement…it's all the same thing."_

Slowly, the assassin's eyes opened, only to find that the empty white eyes were now inches from her own.

"_This is as close as I can get. Go, before I decide to test the strength of this chain." _

Katarina shot away from the wall, sending the shadows scrambling. She hurled herself through the opposite gateway, not daring to look back as another grating laugh echoed off the stone walls.

Slowly, the paralyzing terror faded, and by the time Katarina's pace had slowed to a gentle jog, she had forgotten why she had been afraid in the first place. She stopped and turned to glance over her shoulder, but saw nothing. Her eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Freak," she grumbled, before continuing down the hallway.

Soon, the sounds of her footsteps echoing off the walls mingled with another sound. She quickly realized the sounds were voices, and though she could not quite distinguish direction, she knew that the voices were vastly different from the ghostly whispers. Encouraged, she continued forward, her footsteps gradually growing softer and softer as she blended into the shadows. The voices were discernible now, and she began to make out a few phrases.

"…need to know…this disgusting behavior of yours…just tell me why…"

_Grímnir, _she recognized. So he was down here, but who was he talking to? She listened for another moment before receiving her answer, loud and clear.

"I am your_ King! _I don't have to answer to you!"

Katarina's eyes narrowed and she shot up from her crouch, abandoning all attempts at stealth.

The summoner looked up as she approached, and despite the odd nature of her appearance, his face remained impassive and unsurprised. Tryndamere, however, was quite the opposite.

"What the fuck is _she _doing here?" he roared, rushing closer to the bars of the cell that held him and fixing the assassin with a glare that could melt lead. He was ragged-looking, his armor abandoned for simple, shredded pants that barely seemed to fit him. On his bare, dirty chest was a carving that shimmered with golden writing, but Katarina turned away before she could read it and clenched her jaw tightly, pointedly ignoring the barbarian. She directed all of her attention towards Grímnir. "I need to speak to you in private."

"What matter is pressing enough for you to seek me here, Sinister Blade?" his voice was cold, devoid of all emotion, a stark contrast to the passionate shouts she had just overheard.

"Come with me and I'll tell you," she answered.

The summoner shook his head. "Here is where I am needed. If you have anything to say to me, say it now."

Katarina again turned toward the barbarian, who was staring her down with fury that was almost palpable. "Go ahead, say it in front of me!" He lurched forward, his hands gripping the bars, pulling at them roughly. As his skin made contact with the metal, a golden light emerged from his hands, and smoke began to rise where he held the bars.

"That isn't going to accomplish anything," said Grímnir calmly as the barbarian pulled and strained, finally releasing the metal with a vicious, frustrated growl. As he lowered his hands, Katarina could see that his palms were scorched, the skin horrifically blackened and blistered.

"_Noxian bitch!_" he bellowed, balling his still-smoking hands into fists.

"I'm waiting, Katarina," said Grímnir with authority, ignoring Tryndamere is if he were a disobedient child.

The assassin felt her stomach lurch as her brain cycled through the endless possibilities, the lies and excuses that she had conjured to try and stall for time. All of them seemed to disintegrate in her brain as she met the cold eyes of the senior summoner in front of her, and for a fleeting second, she felt as if he could see into her soul. The words fell from her lips without her permission.

"Noxus is planning an invasion of Freljord."

Tryndamere's tantrum fell silent.

"I see," said Grímnir slowly, showing no outward reaction to the news.

"…What did you say?" asked Tryndamere incredulously, coming closer to the bars again, this time without touching them.

"I don't know all of the details," she explained, feeling sick to her stomach, "but it _will_ happen, and soon."

"Is that all?" asked Grímnir, still expressionless.

The assassin shook her head. "They have weapons. Bombs. Something big. They could destroy the entire region-"

"Why are you telling me this?" he interrupted, catching Katarina off guard.

"I…what do you mean?"

"You come to me, claiming that your own city-state, who you've been fiercely loyal to thus far, holds secret plans to break a binding contract of peace?"

The assassin felt her betrayal like a hot blade against her throat. She swallowed deeply, but the feeling did not pass. "Yes."

Grímnir sighed and shook his head. "I'm not sure why you're telling me this, Katarina, as there isn't anything I can do."

"I know that it…wait, what?" she asked, staring at the man in confusion. Of the reactions she had anticipated, that certainly wasn't one of them. "Do you not believe me?"

"Whether I do or not, there is nothing I can do," he repeated.

Tryndamere, who had been silent until that point, erupted, his face whiter than a sheet. "What do you mean _there's nothing you can do_? You're our fucking peace keepers, for fuck's sake! That's the whole reason you assholes exist!"

As much as Katarina hated the barbarian, she found herself expressing the same sentiment. "Isn't this something the League should mobilize against?"

Grímnir shook his head again, filling Katarina with a strong desire to cut it off. "You misunderstand our purpose. We have no standing army, only controlled battle arenas –"

Tryndamere cut him off, pounding against the bars, sending showers of gold sparks into the air. "_Bullshit! Let me out of here!_"

"You aren't going anywhere," he said, his tone almost bored.

Katarina stared at the summoner for a long moment, her frustration rising. "I just told you that your homeland is about to be invaded and possibly destroyed," she repeated, "and you're seriously telling me that you don't care?"

A spark of anger flashed across the man's face. "That isn't what I –"

"Your queen is there, did I mention that?" The Noxian felt her distress rising, and she had to fight to keep the emotion out of her voice. "Ashe returned to Freljord. She could be _killed_."

"Then why are _you_ still standing here?" he asked coolly.

The question rooted Katarina to the spot, and Tryndamere paused his pointless pounding against the bars.

"I have duties to attend to, if you'll excuse me," said the summoner, and he picked up a lantern that shimmered with magical golden light before turning away from the two of them, who stood staring at him with incredulous expressions. Katarina almost called out to him, but couldn't find her voice.

"_You fucking coward!_" Tryndamere called to his retreating figure. "You're a coward and a traitor!"

"Just stop it!" yelled the assassin, channeling her frustration and shoving her face towards his, glaring at him through the bars. "You aren't going to do anything!"

The barbarian glared back, his eyes narrowing to slits, his fury seeming to hang in the air around him. "This is _your fault!_"

Katarina balled her hands into fists. "_My _fault?"

"You're a god damn Noxian," he growled, saying the name as if it were a curse, "and all of you are exactly the same."

Katarina again ignored the heavy lump in her throat. "That doesn't change the fact that Freljord is in danger."

"Why should I even believe you? You're just a Noxian bitch with a few knives," he spat.

"Why the hell would I lie?" she countered.

Tryndamere seemed to consider for a moment. "It could be a trap."

Katarina scoffed. "You're an idiot. And even if it was, it didn't fucking work."

"Why would you betray your own people like that?"

"None of your fucking business. Why would _you _be such a fucking _asshole_ to your own wife?"

The anger in his eyes flared. "None of _your _fucking business!"

The two glared at each other, their mutual dislike rising.

"Tell me what you know about the invasion," he finally said.

"And why the fuck should I?"

Tryndamere seemed to vibrate with his anger, but he kept his voice level, surprising Katarina. "Because thousands of my people are in danger, if I'm to believe you."

The Noxian stared at him closely, gauging his movements, watching his expressions. She knew that, normally, she would have left the dungeon and ignored his yelling, but something in Grímnir's demeanor unnerved her greatly, though she couldn't yet entertain those thoughts. Tryndamere wasn't an ally, but neither of them wanted to see Freljord invaded at that moment, unlike the man she had thought would help her.

"Honestly, I don't know much. Swain is Grand General. He's amassing forces, which likely include very large Hextech bombs. And unless there's been another information leak, no one in Freljord should have any warning of this."

Tryndamere swore loudly. "How is that not under the League's protection?"

"I have no idea," said Katarina. Her thoughts about Grímnir were darkening, and after a long moment, she spoke them out loud. "I fear the League might be corrupted."

The barbarian grunted. "That, or they just don't want to get off their asses. They'll just sit there with their dicks in their hands while the rest of us kill for them. Not any different from what they do every fucking day." He stood in silence, but only for a moment before the thundering anger returned. "And that cowardly bastard Swain!" he roared, pounding his burned fists against the stone wall of his cell, "Attacking while I'm imprisoned!"

"And while the queen is weak," added Katarina coldly.

Tryndamere froze with his back towards the assassin. For a long time, he said nothing, prompting Katarina to speak again.

"If she dies, I will do what it takes to end your life, barbarian."

The big man made no movements.

"Go," he mumbled after several long moments. "Get out of here. The League is useless to me now. I'm trapped here. Get to Freljord. Warn them."

Katarina turned away from the bars and began to walk away.

"Noxian," he called, halting her in her tracks again. "If the invasion succeeds and my people die, then _I _will do what it takes to end _your _life."

* * *

><p><em>SMACK!<em>

Katarina was instantly pulled from her reverie as a huge black object collided with the windshield.

"Shit!" she screamed, her hands jerking to the side while she slammed on the breaks, earning a scream of protest from the vehicle as it fishtailed, spinning in a circle before it came to an embankment, sending the assassin flying from her seat and through a haze of broken glass before crashing onto the ground shoulder-first.

The forest swam around her in tight circles. Everything blurred, refocused, and then blurred again. Katarina clung to consciousness with an iron grip, willing her surroundings to stand still. Pain crept up on her slowly, then exploded in her shoulder and her now-re-broken wrist.

The circles gradually morphed into lazy ovals, then gentle back-and-forth motions. As she very carefully lifted her head from the mixture of dirt and blood on the ground, her ears detected a faint, yet very familiar

_Squawk. _

Her eyes met Beatrice's.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: The Belly of the Beast

The world fell in and out of focus, but the image of the proud raven never faltered. Beatrice stood at her full height, no feather out of place, no sign of the collision she'd just thrown herself into. Her red eyes fixed on Katarina, reflecting a predatory glint. The Noxian glared right back.

"I'm going to rip out all of your feathers," she growled darkly.

The bird blinked in response, craning her neck forward in order to point to a small scroll that rested on the ground between them. Katarina ignored it, keeping perfectly still as her right hand slowly reached for a knife at her belt. The raven clicked her beak and threw her head back, shaking from top to bottom. The sight was completely bizarre until she realized that the creature was producing a crude imitation of laughter. Her hand closed around the knife.

Like a switch, the laughter stopped, eyes again staring at Katarina as if she was dinner. Without another word, the assassin shot out, hurling the knife at the empty space where Beatrice had just stood. A flurry of black feathers fell on top of her face as the clicking laughter faded into the sky, and she was alone.

"Fuck," winced Katarina, curling in on herself and biting down on her lip to fight the pain. Her head filled with images of battle wounds, of knives and arrows embedded into her skin, of the nights that followed battles, filled with the cries of those who were afraid to be bleeding in the dark on foreign soil.

Summoning magic would never be able to instill the pain of real wounds. Biological pain responses proved easy enough to emulate, but no man cries for his lost limb when he knows that moments later he will be free to sit in his own room and pretend the incident never happened. Katarina was very aware of the miles she'd already put behind her, the miles that lay between her and the twin peaks looming ahead of her, and the pain – more real than any she'd felt since the Ionian War.

She gripped her knuckles tightly to distract herself from the agony of lifting her head from the blood and dirt on the ground below her. Calmly, she remembered her survival training from many years previously. She could almost hear the voice instructing her.

_Assess your ability. Are you wounded? _

Broken wrist. Possible broken ribs. Wounded shoulder.

_Broken?_

She checked. No, but a long, deep gash was bleeding where she had scratched the windshield on the way out.

_Stop any bleeding. If you are in unfamiliar territory, clean up and leave the area. Your blood will attract attention. _

The medical kit in the van. Where was the van? Her eyes found it crumpled up against a tree just 20 feet away.

_Move carefully, but quickly._

Clamping her teeth together so she wouldn't cry out, the crimson-haired woman managed to get into a standing position. Slowly, with great caution, she began to walk.

_Make sure to recall the last orders you were given._

Katarina's eyes fell to the scroll that lay between her and the van.

_Follow them. _

She staggered past it on her way to the vehicle.

_If you are physically incapable of following them, begin searching for help. _

Her eyes fell between the path she had taken from the Institute and the dark, shadowy crags of Dodkjole. At last, they settled on the twin peaks. She moved to the van and stumbled awkwardly to a stop, pulling the medical kit from the floor of the twisted metal frame.

_If you are wounded, judge yourself to be at least 10 miles from your nearest ally on hostile territory, and are unable to carry out your orders, this is considered a Class E survival situation._

Carefully, Katarina began to clean the wound on her shoulder, biting her lip as she poured disinfectant over the gash.

_Determine the nearest source of any possible aid. Move quickly and do not sleep._

The assassin's hands tightened as she began to wrap a bandage around the wound.

_Above all, remember: if you die, you die in silence. _

The roll of bandages Katarina was holding unceremoniously slipped to the floor, and her face fell into her good hand. Behind her closed eyelids, the Noxian crest seemed like a burning emblem across her vision, obscuring all else - even the darkness - until a single tear fought its way through, sliding down the jagged line of skin that formed the scar of a wound that had never quite healed properly.

_Don't let your father see you cry, _came the voice of Swain from years ago, triggering the memory of his face – younger, but no less menacing. He stood before her - a terrified, barely-initiated first year student of Valoran's most brutal and renowned military academy. His eyes were the same piercing red as they fixed on her small form. _If he saw you, he wouldn't tell you that with this much kindness. Nor will I, if I ever see you do it again. _

He hadn't seen her do it again. No one but Ashe had. She had struggled with her bloodlust, with her own fervor, with her internal drive to kill, but never again with her urge to cry.

"Stop it," she commanded herself, her voice breaking as a second tear joined the first, only serving to anger her further.

Her eyes slid open and in the failing daylight, she saw the towering mountains that held the pass that served as Freljord's gate. The image lasted for only a moment before her vision had blurred too much to make out any details. She could feel tightness in her throat and an overwhelming urge to release the built-up sob, but she bit down her lip to suppress it, her free hand swiping desperately at her face to dispel the tears.

With shaking fingers, she finished bandaging her wounds, though it took her far longer than normal due to the injuries of her left arm. When she had finished, she waited a moment, practically daring her body to betray her with tears again. They did not come.

Gradually, a feeling of purpose filled the assassin as she turned back to the north, facing the two mountains. She had almost willed herself to begin to move when something caught her eye. On the ground several feet away, near where she had landed after being thrown in the crash, the tiny scroll sat beside a pool of blood.

With great effort, Katarina shuffled from the vehicle. Slowly, she limped to the scroll, which had rolled open as it landed.

_Return to Noxus. Immediately._

She stepped on the paper and kept walking.

* * *

><p>After several hours, the instructing voice in her head returned, as clear as it had been so many years previously.<p>

_Yesterday, I mentioned Class E survival situations. We'll expand on this. The vast majority of soldiers under these circumstances die of exposure or starvation. A smaller percent are taken prisoner – Class F – and another percent just disappear. Du Couteau. Out of one hundred reported plausible Class E situations, how many achieve rescue, on average?_

"One, Sir," Katarina answered out loud.

_ Look at me right now and tell me if you're capable of being that one in a hundred lost soldiers who actually comes crawling home. _

"Yes, Sir," she replied again, feeling the numbness in her feet creep slowly up her leg as the temperature around her continued to plummet.

_Wrong answer, Du Couteau. You are in an Introductory Survival class, are you saying you're better than my elite men and women who have not returned home this season?_

"Not better, Sir," she explained in a level tone, flinching involuntary at the breeze that blew on her wounded shoulder. "Just different."

_And why are you different?_

"I have already killed a man who was in that situation, Sir," she said to the empty, barren forest around her.

_Killing a man at that age means nothing. _

Cold steam billowed out of Katarina's mouth, filling the dark air like thick smoke.

_You cannot possibly understand the significance of what you have done._

In the distance, the two mountain peaks loomed ahead, beginning to reveal what looked like pass that Ashe had referred to.

_You don't understand the life that you're taking. The life that you hold._

Katarina's shoulder starting shivering violently in the wind that ran through the evergreen trees of the northern forest. Her eyelids slowly slid shut.

_You will never understand the value of life until you are staring in the face of death. _

It took her a moment to realize that the steel pressed to her throat was real and not a remnant of her past. She stood perfectly still. Though she had nearly lost the ability to feel cold, a final, bone-rattling chill racked her entire body, and she nearly buckled under its weight.

_I'm going to die, _she thought, and though it was not the first time in her life that this had occurred to her, she was surer of the fact now than she had ever been.

Her captor spoke, but her ears rang so loudly that she heard nothing.

_I'm going to die._

Everything inside of her screamed to fight, to pull a knife from her belt, to yell – anything to break the hold she was trapped in, but she did not move.

After what felt like hours, her lips finally fell open. "P-please," she stammered, her voice a ghost of the sharp tone that she typically wielded like a knife.

The world pitched sideways, dimmed, flickered for a moment, and then went black.

* * *

><p><em>"Katarina," a familiar voice called.<em>

_ The Noxian squeezed her eyes shut tighter and ignored the summons until she felt a hand gently shaking her. _

_ "Kat!" _

_ "Go away," she muttered, turning over on the bed. _

_ "I know you're not sleeping," the voice accused. _

_ She let out a growl of annoyance. "No shit, because my stupid sister won't leave me alone." _

_ Cassiopeia filled the room with her peeling laughter. "It's my fault, is it? Surely it can't be the fact that you're being sent away in the morning." _

_ Katarina's eyes shot open, greeted with her sister's playful smile. In the dim light cast by the flickering candle on the bedside table, she saw that Cassiopeia was standing in a beautiful, flowing gown, the sort of garment that Katarina was known for destroying if ever forced to wear. Yet it seemed almost like a second skin to her sister, accentuating the grace and fragility of her body. Though beautiful, she was small, even for her nine years. _

"_I'm not being sent away!" the older girl snapped, swiping a hand at Cassiopeia, who nimbly dodged the blow. "You're too young to understand!" _

_ More laughter, "I'm teasing, sister." Still, she moved until she was an arm's length away from the bed. When she looked back at Katarina, her face quickly softened. "So, you're not scared, then?" _

_ "Of course not," she lied, turning back around to face the other side of the room._

_ "I am," the younger girl confessed. _

_ Katarina's face twisted in anger, but she did not turn back around. "You don't have shit to be afraid of," she spat. _

_ "I'm afraid for my big sister," she clarified. "If half of what they say about the academy is true –"_

_ "Then I will be one of the greatest soldiers in Valoran," Katarina finished for her, "and the last thing I need, Cassie, is for you to tell me otherwise." _

_ After a moment, Katarina felt the bed dip behind her. "Can I ask you something?" her sister's voice was quieter and more timid than usual. _

_ "Only if you ask me if you can leave and let me sleep," she replied without turning around. _

_ Cassiopeia ignored her. "How did you kill that Ionian assassin?" _

_ Katarina's heart immediately jumped, accelerating as she remembered the man on the floor, covered in blood. _

_ "I know that something happened that day," she continued, and the bed shifted as she lay down, about a foot away from her older sister. "No one can understand how you managed to do it. Father is the only one who isn't surprised." _

_ Katarina shook her head. General Du Couteau was the only man who knew what had happened, the fluke that had intervened and guided her blade home. "He's still surprised," she said out loud, "he just hides it well."_

_ "Tell me," she begged, placing a hand on her sister's shoulder and tugging gently, a silent request to turn around. "I swear that I won't tell anyone." _

_ "I don't want to talk about this," she growled dismissively, shrugging the hand off. "And you don't want to hear it, anyway." _

_ "I want to know that you're going to be safe," Cassiopeia confessed after a moment, her voice soft and gentle. She was good at soothing with her voice, but she almost never used such a kind tone with her sister. "I want to know that you're strong enough to protect yourself." _

_ Katarina whirled around, throwing the sheet off of her as she did so. "Of course I'm strong enough!" she said indignantly, but Cassiopeia's soft expression did not change._

_ "Then tell me what happened," she asked again with patience that Katarina hadn't inherited. _

_Katarina held her sister's gaze for a moment, searching her eyes. She had thought over the events countless times before, but she had only told the story out loud once before. The words fell from her lips before she could stop them. "You know those ledges, the ones that run along the corridors, about 10 feet off the ground?" _

_ Cassiopeia nodded. "You climb on them. Father kept saying you would fall and hurt yourself." _

_ "He certainly doesn't think that anymore," she muttered. She shifted, uncomfortable, but Cassiopeia's small nod egged her on. "I was on the second floor, perched on one of them and looking out of the window. There are more ledges that run along the outside wall. They're too small for even me to safely climb on…so I was confused when I saw someone pressed against the wall, sliding along the window. I couldn't tell who he was, but he was dressed in black and I could tell that he hadn't seen me. But he was coming towards my window and as soon as I saw him I…" she stopped herself from admitting the truth – that she had been filled with a terror that she did not understand, a feeling so primal that she had nearly fallen off the ledge. Her father had frowned when she had told him that part. "…I just knew that he had to die. I saw him coming close to the window and quickly moved along the ledge. I was about 20 feet from the window when I heard it opening._

_ "I had the knife that father gave me, and I took it out. I don't know what good I thought it would do, but I held it and waited." She left out the part where she considered jumping from the ledge and running away in terror. "He came in through the window like a shadow, perched on the ledge, facing away from me. And then…"she struggled for words, as she had before when recounting the tale to her father. "I knew that I couldn't move, that he would hear me no matter what I did. That was the last thing I thought before I was standing right next to him."_

_ Cassiopeia's brow wrinkled in confusion. "What do you mean?" _

_ Katarina shook her head vigorously. "I mean that one second, I was 20 feet away from him, and the next…" her mouth went dry at the memory. "You're too young to hear the rest." _

_ "But how did you get there?" _

_In truth, she had no idea how it had happened. Her father had seemed to know something, but he had kept silent, telling her that she would know everything in time._

"_I thought about standing next to him and hurting him," she whispered, "and then it happened." _

* * *

><p>Somewhere in the distance, Katarina could hear heavy footfalls. The sound roused her, but her eyes remained tightly closed as feeling slowly returned to her limbs, which were heavy with fatigue. She stifled a groan as she realized that something underneath her was moving, bumping against her shoulder periodically. A small rope bound her wrists together, and her fingers twitched, twisting around the thick fur that seemed to surround her on all sides.<p>

_Bear,_ she thought to herself, and the musty smell confirmed it. Her searching fingers found the edge of the fur and pushed beyond into the cold air. She withdrew her hands immediately and opened her eyes in the darkness.

Katarina focused on the footsteps, which she now understood as they matched the movement of the body beneath her. Bound to the horse with rope and wrapped in bear skin, her captor had taken measures to ensure that she would live. It was a blessing, and Katarina felt the briefest flicker of relief before a second set of footfalls reached her ears from beyond the thick shelter of fur.

"Tyrus," called a deep voice in surprise, muffled but close by, "what brings you this far north?"

The other man responded with a phrase in a language she didn't recognize. It was much harder to hear his words, but she managed. "Grímnir ordered me home. What have you got there?"

"An assassin. Noxian, by the looks of it. She's in bad shape."

The second voice came closer. "A Noxian assassin wandering alone through Freljord in winter?"

"See for yourself."

After a moment, the horse she was bound to stopped, and she heard the other approach. The fur in front of her face was pulled back. In the faint rays of dawn, her eyes met those of the barbarian summoner she had seen speaking to Ashe. He gaped in shock when he saw her. "Katarina Du Couteau," he whispered, adding more words that the Noxian did not recognize. "Gisle…do you not know her?"

"If she's from the League, I wouldn't," he admitted. "I have too much to worry about at home to keep up with what happens at the Institute."

Tyrus shook his head in amazement. "You've captured one of the most dangerous assassins in Valoran."

Another face entered Katarina's view, and she noted the curious sapphire eyes and thick blonde beard of the Freljordian man. "She's no danger to anyone right now," Gisle said, his gaze softening, "she was nearly dead when I found her, stumbling around in the woods and muttering to herself."

"But what is she doing up here?"

The other man shrugged. "Haven't asked; she's only just waking up. What brings you to Freljord, Noxian?"

Katarina struggled to open her mouth, but her throat felt dryer than sandpaper. Gisle noticed and quickly produced a water skin, which he handed to Tyrus.

The barbarian hesitated for a moment. "Is she bound?" When the other man nodded, he brought the skin to Katarina's lips and the assassin relaxed when she felt cool water in her mouth. She swallowed with great effort, drinking her fill until the barbarian pulled the skin away and gave her a moment to breathe. As she did, her eyes flickered back and forth between the two men, and she noticed the stark difference in their expressions – Gisle's face was almost kind, while Tyrus's was narrowed and accusing.

"Ashe," she finally said, her voice thick and hoarse.

Tyrus now looked confused, "The queen is at the Institute."

Gisle shook his head. "I saw Eigile flying overhead in the pass about an hour ago."

The two men exchanged worried glances. "Something's going on, and I bet she has something to do with it," the barbarian summoner was looking more wary by the minute.

"I…I have to speak with her," she continued.

Tyrus wasn't having it. "If there's a diplomatic incident, you need to report it to a summoner immediately."

Despite her fatigue, the boy's tone struck her nerve, and she managed to glare at him, mirroring the distrust in his expression. "Done. He didn't care."

The boy opened his mouth to speak again, but Gisle cut him off. "We're a few hours from _Läslina_. I'll take you there immediately."

"This could be a trick," protested Tyrus, but Gisle gently kicked his horse into a canter. The barbarian summoner followed suit, keeping pace with the man.

"That's for the Frost Archer to decide," he said with stern finality, and the young summoner fell silent.

* * *

><p>Despite Gisle's estimate, the three of them approached a high gate about half an hour later. The ride was swift and silent, with Tyrus following right behind Gisle and glaring at the Noxian whenever he got the chance. Katarina did her best to ignore him, but she couldn't help but study his sour face. The anger in his eyes only strengthened his resemblance to Tryndamere, as did the lighting, which made his hair seem darker. She felt a stir of unease at the thoughts and forced them from her mind, turning her attention instead to the gate that towered above her head.<p>

"Is that solid ice?"

Gisle followed her gaze. "That it is," he said proudly. "_Nej-smält Holvik, _the Unmelting Gate. It will stand forever, even if the sun falls to the ground. It was made untold centuries ago with ice from Dodkjole."

At the name, Katarina perked up. "What's so special about Dodkjole?" she asked.

"Have you heard of the Death Chill, Noxian?" he asked, his conversational tone now full of surprise.

"Ashe mentioned it once," she said, leaving out the orders that she would have received had her assassination been successful.

"It is a place of great power," he said, his voice full of reverence, "a scar frozen upon the land eons ago. The legends say that one of the first human summoners attempted to enslave some terrible evil presence within the confines of his spellwork. Whatever it was grew angry at his arrogance, and decided to punish him with a display of its great power."

"The great being took the form of an enormous, hundred-limbed frost dragon – _Kuur Drak _- and flew from the very heart of the Gelid Vortex. From mouth to tail tip, the beast could reach from the top of the Ironspikes to the heart of the tundra. Its ice scales were said to be colder than anything ever known to the ice tribes. The human summoner scarcely had time to look up on the dragon's face before it consumed him. The being abandoned the shell it had created, and the body of the creature perished, left to decompose in the ice."

"The land sat untouched for a century before the ice tribes dared to approach the dragon's gravesite – the creature was large enough to instill fear in many generations. But curiosity is a strong force, and the ice tribes grew brave enough to investigate the treacherous land. Dodkjole is the ice that the beast left behind, warped by its own chill. Those passes and tunnels are the coldest places in Valoran. The ice tribes were fearful of such a place, but a few brave souls sought to settle the unforgiving land. They are called the _Isgå_ - Icewalkers." He paused and glanced back at Katarina, an apology on his expression. "Forgive me, Noxian, you did not ask for an entire history lesson."

The assassin shook her head. "No, I did ask. And I've never heard of the Icewalkers."

Gisle's expression filled with awe once again. "The _Isgå _may have never heard of you. They are small in number and keep very much to themselves, rarely leaving the safety of Dodkjole."

"Safety?" asked Katarina, "I was told it was the most treacherous area in Freljord."

"Of course it is," conceded Gisle, "for those of us who are not _Isgå._ Ice as cold as that in Dodkjole has never been seen before and likely never will again. Because of this, it is completely impenetrable – fire won't melt it, steel won't shatter it. Even when the glaciers of the north shore weep, Dodkjole remains a fortress against all harm for the _Isgå, _who traverse the ice tunnels unhindered."

Katarina's heart accelerated as she processed what the man was telling her. "I had thought that Dodkjole was a mountain pass," she said.

"The first mile or so is exposed, it is true," explained the man, "but much of the Death Chill takes the form of tunnels buried deep beneath the ground where the dragon's hundred limbs fell. It is rumored that the tunnels run the entire expanse of Freljord. Only the _Isgå _know for sure."

"And nothing destroys it? You're certain of this?"

"The _Isgå _have ways, which is how they shaped _Nej-smält Holvik,_ but no outsider has ever managed to leave so much as a mark."

Katarina swore under her breath. "Gisle…does this horse go faster?" she spoke softly so as not to be overheard by Tyrus.

The man gave her another curious glance. "Does the Death Chill frighten you, Noxian?" he asked, keeping his tone low as well, for which the assassin was grateful.

_An impenetrable series of ice tunnels spans across the region, when Swain holds bombs in his hands._

"Very much so," she admitted, and something in her tone made Gisle kick his horse into a gallop.

* * *

><p>After another half hour, a huge castle that appeared to be made of ice – <em>Läslina, <em>Gisle reminded her _- _rose from the tundra, nestled in a high valley between two mountains. Here the terrain grew more treacherous, and the horses had to slow as the ride became more vertical. Tyrus struggled here, his horse making soft noises of discontent.

"That foal of yours from the League has no business here, Tyrus," Gisle teased, an amused smirk playing across his face.

"I'm not home enough to train a _kall häst,_" he said defensively.

"Ice horse," Gisle translated for Katarina, who was starting to shiver again, even while wrapped in the bear fur. "I'll get you there soon, Noxian," he said, taking note of the woman's chill.

"Why are you talking to her?" snapped Tyrus, whose frustration finally seemed to peak with the failure of his horse.

"She is our guest," answered the man calmly, unaffected by the barbarian summoner's rude tone.

"She's our prisoner," he corrected, throwing another glare at Katarina as his horse took a misstep and shied for a moment before continuing on. "You even bound her!"

Gisle paused for a moment as he navigated his horse over a patch of particularly dangerous ice. "The Frost Archer will ultimately decide what she is. Until then, I will be cautious, but certainly not unkind. I had expected better of you, Tyrus. I know what the barbarians say about Noxians, but the League should have taught you better."

Katarina felt a pang in the pit of her stomach. She doubted the man would be saying any of these things if he had known that she had been ordered to kill Ashe before coming to Freljord. Her shivering grew more intense.

"Nothing to say, Du Couteau?" asked Tyrus.

"What I have to say is for Ashe's ears alone," she replied coldly, taking great care not to stammer despite her trembling.

"I'm sure she will be very interested in hearing your words, as we've arrived," Gisle interjected, and the horses both halted at the base of the stone staircase leading up to the castle gates.

"Is the castle made from Dodkjole ice as well?" asked Katarina hopefully as the man dismounted smoothly.

"No, _Läslina _is stone at its heart. Still, the ice on the walls melts only during the hottest of summers." He came to her side and gently removed the bear fur, exposing the ropes that bound her to the saddle. He made short work of the knots, but kept her hands bound, though she noticed that he took great care of her broken left wrist.

"Can she walk?" asked Tyrus, stepping down from his horse in a way that was not at all graceful.

The big man shook his head. "I would not try," he met Katarina's gaze, "but if she'll let me, I'll carry her."

The Noxian looked uncomfortable at the prospect, but nodded quickly, resigning herself to whatever would get her to Ashe the quickest. Her eyes fell on the huge door of _Läslina, _and her stomach bottomed out at the sight of it. She realized in that moment that she hadn't expected to be right where she was now, at the gates of Ashe's castle, bound like a prisoner. _I let go of my life the moment the van hit the tree._

But she had taken it back again, and now that she had, the realization of what she was about to do filled her heart with lead. She held her face neutral as Gisle lifted her with great care, holding her as if she weighed nothing and carrying her up the steps. Tyrus followed behind, his brow furrowing even deeper as the door opened in front of them.

Katarina was almost too preoccupied to notice the room that they had entered. A huge hall spread in front of her, with icy walls that had been colored a gorgeous electric blue. On the walls hung white and gold banners that proudly displayed the Freljordian crest. Interspersed were black and red banners with war-painted skulls on them. At the far end of the hall, two ornate thrones sat on a dais…but the assassin's examination went no further as her gaze fell on one of the figures standing in front of the thrones.

Sapphire eyes met hers from across the room, and Ashe froze in shock, completely oblivious to the men who were standing next to her and speaking animatedly. Katarina's heart lightened, suddenly sprinting at double speed, and she felt the ghost of cold lips against her own. She was overcome with the urge to run, to jump down from the arms of the man who held her and dash across the room just to be near the Frost Archer.

"Katarina!" Ashe called, a string of emotions passing unhindered across her face as she leapt down from the dais, her blue cloak flying behind her as _she _ran across the room while Katarina lay frozen in Gisle's arms.

She came to a stop and all of the confliction in her expression fell, giving way to unhindered worry as she got a better look at the wounded, trembling Noxian. With no hesitation, her hand found its way to the assassin's cheek. Katarina was so cold that the archer's hand felt almost warm against her skin. The contact brought with it the dark feelings of treachery, and Katarina's eyes slid shut from the overwhelming thoughts in her head.

She opened her mouth to speak, so many words lingering on her tongue…apologies, confessions, desperate pleas…but she forced all of them aside in order to say what she had risked everything for.

"Noxus is going to bomb Freljord."

**A/N: I TOLD YOU I WASN'T ABANDONING IT. **


End file.
